(me at home before I left. Minus the outfit, this is all that I brought with me to Senegal).
I didnt sleep much the first night at my homestay because it was probably 90 degrees in the room and what would've been considered a hurricane by American standards was blowing past my window. In fact, at one point in the night, i had to get out of bed to move everything from one side of the room to the other because of the rain coming through my open window. One would think that the logical thing to have done would've been to simply close the window; however, it was honestly so hot that that was in actuality not even an option. I would love to sleep naked if that were an option but people walk in and out of my room as they wish, therefore, it would be a bit awkward. Even the nights when mosquitos are out in masses, I choose to keep my window open--- yes, i would rather get malaria than to bare the scorching heat.
Speaking of which, for the first three days of my homestay, there was just Amy (the maid), Papa Jean-Claude, and my two host brothers Julien et Yves. Maman Isabelle had been in the hospital because she was suffering from malaria. Here, they call malaria "paludisme" or "Palu" for short. Thankfully, she is better now and back at home.
Home life is exhausting. My two host brothers are three and four-- very cute, mais ils me fatiguent. Ive been struggling with a vastly different concept of privacy in Senegal.. basically learning that privacy does not exist. All my things have been rummaged through and studied by the two boys and i honestly have to push the boys out of my room if i need to change or out of the bathroom if i need to use it.
Like all boys their age, they are full of energy. So far our bonding has consisted of playing soccer, putting together puzzles and building a car. The boys are really fond of kicking the ball into doors and aim to make the loudest crashing sound as possible. When I tried to help Julien build a model car, he refused to give me the pieces I needed, yet demanded that i finish making him the car. Also like children their age, the two also ask questions incessantly. This works well for me, however, because they usually ask each question four or five times, so if i don't catch what they're saying the first time, i usually get it by the second or third.
I never imagined just how tiring speaking and learning languages could be. Despite the fact that all classes are taught in French, that French is spoken at home (for the most part), and all newspapers are written in French, my French is improving at a snails rate... or at least thats how I feel. We had our first Wolof class the other day. I am picking up on that at an even slower rate. So far I can confidently use the greeting "asalaa maalikum" (in which you respond to with maalikum salaam), but that doesnt really count as anything because you just repeat what the other has said to you in reverse ... and its not even French nor Wolof: its Arabic. I kind of have "nanga def" down, which means "how are you" in Wolof and in which one replies with "maangi fi rekk", meaning "I am here in peace, I am fine".
Outside of being tired all the time and practically welcoming malaria, i've been working really hard to take care of myself. Ive been keeping up with all my vitamins, hand washing all my clothes daily (there's no other option), obsessively spraying bug spray, and taking showers daily if not more often. This all sounds really silly to state, but given the absence of water, the jam packed schedule, and the horrifying insect to air molecule ratio, its all an enormous feat. The water that comes out of the shower head is no more than the thin stream that comes out of the weakest faucet in the US. I wash all my clothes while showering in order to conserve water, so not to be a huge burden on my host family. At times, the water just stops working while Im in the shower or using the bathroom. After I wash my clothes, I hang them up outside to dry on a clothing line. Its always a gamble to do so. I could hang it up in my room, but the humididty trapped in there causes the clothing to take forever to dry. When I hang my clothes on the clothing line outside, there is always the looming possibility that the (almost) daily rain storms will get to my clothes before i do.
They tell me to expect far worse in terms of weather during the month of October-- that's apparently when its supposed to be the worst. I cannot imagine what worse could possibly be in terms of weather, but i know to keep an open mind and to remain unfathomably flexible.
Yesterday after a field trip around all of dakar ( the capitol of senegal in which i reside for the first half of the program), a few of us decided to go to the beach. When we got there, to our dismay, we saw that there was only one other girl amongst a sea of boys. Its was probably one of the more awkward exchanges i've had here thus far--- the minute they caught sight of us they started screaming "toubab"-- a phrase we hear often meaning French speaking person, or really, non black person. As we walked closer to the beach, they started to follow us. As we dressed down to our bathing suits, one boy said to Eva, one of the girls I was with, " je t'aime", meaning i love you. As we stood floating in current of the ocean, another boy came up and tried to touch (as in pet) yet another girl, Licia, that i was with.
Though I'm sure i sound aggitated, i assure you that i am not as dissatisfied with this experience as i am coming off as. I am merely tired beyond comprehension, frustrated of being treated differently because of my skin color, sweating through my clothes, and dizzy as hell just because. I am happily absorbing tons from this unique culture and grateful for every encounter (however awkward it may be) that finds me.
Speaking of which, for the first three days of my homestay, there was just Amy (the maid), Papa Jean-Claude, and my two host brothers Julien et Yves. Maman Isabelle had been in the hospital because she was suffering from malaria. Here, they call malaria "paludisme" or "Palu" for short. Thankfully, she is better now and back at home.
Home life is exhausting. My two host brothers are three and four-- very cute, mais ils me fatiguent. Ive been struggling with a vastly different concept of privacy in Senegal.. basically learning that privacy does not exist. All my things have been rummaged through and studied by the two boys and i honestly have to push the boys out of my room if i need to change or out of the bathroom if i need to use it.
Like all boys their age, they are full of energy. So far our bonding has consisted of playing soccer, putting together puzzles and building a car. The boys are really fond of kicking the ball into doors and aim to make the loudest crashing sound as possible. When I tried to help Julien build a model car, he refused to give me the pieces I needed, yet demanded that i finish making him the car. Also like children their age, the two also ask questions incessantly. This works well for me, however, because they usually ask each question four or five times, so if i don't catch what they're saying the first time, i usually get it by the second or third.
I never imagined just how tiring speaking and learning languages could be. Despite the fact that all classes are taught in French, that French is spoken at home (for the most part), and all newspapers are written in French, my French is improving at a snails rate... or at least thats how I feel. We had our first Wolof class the other day. I am picking up on that at an even slower rate. So far I can confidently use the greeting "asalaa maalikum" (in which you respond to with maalikum salaam), but that doesnt really count as anything because you just repeat what the other has said to you in reverse ... and its not even French nor Wolof: its Arabic. I kind of have "nanga def" down, which means "how are you" in Wolof and in which one replies with "maangi fi rekk", meaning "I am here in peace, I am fine".
Outside of being tired all the time and practically welcoming malaria, i've been working really hard to take care of myself. Ive been keeping up with all my vitamins, hand washing all my clothes daily (there's no other option), obsessively spraying bug spray, and taking showers daily if not more often. This all sounds really silly to state, but given the absence of water, the jam packed schedule, and the horrifying insect to air molecule ratio, its all an enormous feat. The water that comes out of the shower head is no more than the thin stream that comes out of the weakest faucet in the US. I wash all my clothes while showering in order to conserve water, so not to be a huge burden on my host family. At times, the water just stops working while Im in the shower or using the bathroom. After I wash my clothes, I hang them up outside to dry on a clothing line. Its always a gamble to do so. I could hang it up in my room, but the humididty trapped in there causes the clothing to take forever to dry. When I hang my clothes on the clothing line outside, there is always the looming possibility that the (almost) daily rain storms will get to my clothes before i do.
They tell me to expect far worse in terms of weather during the month of October-- that's apparently when its supposed to be the worst. I cannot imagine what worse could possibly be in terms of weather, but i know to keep an open mind and to remain unfathomably flexible.
Yesterday after a field trip around all of dakar ( the capitol of senegal in which i reside for the first half of the program), a few of us decided to go to the beach. When we got there, to our dismay, we saw that there was only one other girl amongst a sea of boys. Its was probably one of the more awkward exchanges i've had here thus far--- the minute they caught sight of us they started screaming "toubab"-- a phrase we hear often meaning French speaking person, or really, non black person. As we walked closer to the beach, they started to follow us. As we dressed down to our bathing suits, one boy said to Eva, one of the girls I was with, " je t'aime", meaning i love you. As we stood floating in current of the ocean, another boy came up and tried to touch (as in pet) yet another girl, Licia, that i was with.
Though I'm sure i sound aggitated, i assure you that i am not as dissatisfied with this experience as i am coming off as. I am merely tired beyond comprehension, frustrated of being treated differently because of my skin color, sweating through my clothes, and dizzy as hell just because. I am happily absorbing tons from this unique culture and grateful for every encounter (however awkward it may be) that finds me.
1 comment:
Girl, I love reading your blogs. Your expressive words make me feel that you're right next to me telling me everything. I miss you very much and hope you have an adventure of a lifetime, although I think thats what you're getting. Peace and love!
Erika
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