Sunday, May 29, 2016

The day I exposed my inner reflections of a week's events in an African Bush Village...

Random thoughts I had during a week’s time frame. 

Peace Corps is a time for self-reflection and self-discovery. 
I noticed that I have a lot of “strange” things happen to me at site and although the events are strange, I find my thought processes are even stranger. Peace Corps changes you. You will never be the same person after 27 months of dealing with African Bush Living. 

Below are events that all happened in one week’s time and how I reflected on them.. 

That time... 

That time when you are peeing in the dark and you think you peed on yourself, but to realize, it was just a cockroach crawling over your foot, and you cannot decide which nuisance you prefer because both are pretty standard. πŸ‘€

That time when your village "social pressured" you to get your hair braided and you bought 4 packets of fake hair. Once it was finished, 10 hours divided over 2 days later, your head was so heavy your neck was in constant pain, but you, the Peace Corps Volunteer you are, saw the silver lining: Tie it up just right and you have a built in pillow! Score. πŸ˜‚

That time when your sister is braiding your hair and she has a head cold and is wiping her runny nose with the same fingers she is braiding your hair and you think, “at least it will press down the fly always.” πŸ’†πŸΌπŸ’πŸΌπŸ–πŸΏ

That time when your sister is (still) braiding your hair and she sneezes right on you to the point your neck is wet from her bodily fluids, and you think to yourself, "it's OK, it's mango season so I've been increasing my vitamin C intake and boosting my immune system, I'll just make sure to eat 2-3 more mangos than usual tomorrow.." No worries, just finish braiding my hair already! πŸ˜·πŸ’πŸΌ

That time when a camel spider larger than your hand fell literally in your lap, you jumped up off the ground and screamed uncontrollably as it "ran" away, but you still slept outside anyway. (Just made sure the mosquito net (aka camel spider barrier) was tucked extra tight that night. πŸ˜“πŸ˜¬

That time when you were laying on your hut's floor on a mat having your little sister crack your back, you look up because it was painful, only to notice (in the dark) a scorpion with its tail curled and ready for attack three inches from your face. You killed it and left it there for a warning for other scorpions... Beware, I will murder you all!! 😨😳

That time when you've changed the name of your fake husband so many times that people start to catch on and actually confront you about it. My husband just has a realllllllly long name, and a lot of nick names. (And now, a year later, I feel like he is a real person with a huge backstory and continuous fake day-to-day conversations of what he is mad at me about now.)πŸ’ πŸ˜¬πŸ˜³πŸ’

That time when your Pulaar has reached the fluency level that you understand dirty jokes and who is running around on whom with whom inside the community (and whose children have different fathers than what their birth certificates say) AND you respond, 100% naturally, with the equivalent of "oh my god" in Pulaar and continue to gossip about every person in the village...and a few in the surrounding villages until 1:30am when you have to be up at 6am. πŸ˜‡πŸ’πŸΌπŸ™ŒπŸ—£πŸ™ˆπŸ™‰πŸ™Š

That time when the women and young girls gather to teach you how to dance to drums (aka the lunch bowls), and they realize you can't dance, but you can (kinda) twerk, and that impresses them enough to tell everyone you can dannnnnnce! Thank you, Miley. πŸ’ƒπŸ»πŸ’πŸΌ

That time when it was once again Tuesday and you, once again, don't have any tacos to eat and you vow to figure out how to grow everything (at least the essentials/basics) in your backyard to make tacos on Tuesdays. Here is to hopefully God Agreeing with my ambition. πŸ™πŸΌπŸ™πŸΌπŸ™πŸΌ

That time when for the first time in a year, you are dreading going to Kolda (and into civilization) because you are just so dang happy in village. 😳😍😩

That time when you went to shower at the regional house and knew there was a bar of soap in the bathroom, you get in there, get undressed, ready to commence your shower and realize the soap had dried mouse poop on it. What do you do? You scape it off with your thumbnail, and loofa up the soap and continue with your much needed shower.

🐭 (insert soap emoji here)πŸ’©πŸšΏ

Saturday, May 28, 2016

The day(s) I made soap…


Soap Making Trainings with Six Groups in Two Villages in Conjunction with Hand Washing Stations

World Connect approved my small grant to conduct soap making trainings, for income generation, and hand washing (Tippy Tap) stations to be constructed at every latrine and eating place. These tangible projects work in tandem with the intangible behavior change trainings on hand washing, hygiene and disease prevention that my counterparts and I are conducting. I am so thankful for their contribution as the first (larger) project I am undertaking by myself. 

But, as I have learned time and time again, here in Senegal, things take a lot longer to get started and finished than the Toubabs would like. I thought I could get this entire project done in two months, but I have been materializing this project since the end of March. But, it is finally coming around! We just have a budget issue with obtaining the last of the containers for the Tippy Tap construction. Supply and Demand. And, when that demand comes from a Toubab, the Supply always seems to decrease, thus increasing the price. I just found the last 47 containers, and I will send my counterpart, Hoyo, down to further negotiate the price down to something more acceptable and comparable to my budget price.  

The Soap Trainings went swimmingly! Everyone was excited to attend their session and learn the different techniques. I made two batches with each group, trying not to repeat the same variation more than once. Then, they can train each other on soaps they learned so the two villages can be involved in a training of trainers of all the variations. 

I separated the women from the men so that there would be no gender roles and/or gender discrimination. I showed the men two cooking techniques, one over the fire and one in the sun. The men are really interested in selling and marketing techniques of the soap. I talked openly about selling the soap with the men, but I made sure that the women knew that the reason for these trainings were to supply the Tippy Tap stations each month with their supply of soap, to increase the village’s proactive healthy lifestyle. I had to reiterate that the soap is to be made for the hand washing stations, not to wash clothes. I gave them a recipe for laundry soap, but did not make it with them so the focused stayed on “Clean Hands,” which is the title of my World Connect Project. 


We made citrus, hibiscus with exfoliating factors, wood ash (which I encouraged to be in every soap batch because it has anti-microbial factors in it), moranga, mint, Shea Butter and multi layered soaps with different varieties. 







In this video this woman is fulfilling one of the training's requirements: to be able to describe step-by-step how to make soap including quantities and timeframes. 

Transcription:  (Note: Pulaar isn't (formally) a written language)
Banga panji diidii
pan yo’oo, mbada kilo thiekeri mbdadda too pan go’to 
mbaddat o daa kala pan go’to mbaddat o daa o kala kilo thiekeriji
si a waddii dum haa pardi
banga ndyiam, litterji tatti ndydiam 
mbaddi o haa dum pardi 
o daa kala pardi, litter tatti ndyiam dam, dum pardi, 
jillondirat pew
onsuma, 
banga calata, banngat lidde, janginat calata haa parrat, sagginat haa tiidat, si o (ndyiam dum) yorat, wancinat 
mbaddat kilo karitΓ©, mbdaat toon, to calata toon, yossat dum, haa mbo tayiiat
si tayii’ii pew, onsuma …. calata jippipinii, haa boobat, si o boobtii
Mbaddat litterji joey dullin, calata, si a waddat litterji joey dullin haa burti o 
onsuma mbaddat …...  (muffled nonsense)
wancinat a haa pardi dirtulat haa, haa tekkat, (coleii carton haa parrat, onsuma..) wancieni o kalii haa pardi

Q: balde njelu .. balde haa a wowwi fetchat?


wadde .. balde diidii, balde diidii haa si fimmi onsuma bayda haa pardi sii fifimi pardi acha haa jonti didi fadat haa jonti didi,onsuma lardat, o yorrat 

Q: thiekeriji, heure njelu waddi nder doo
thererey si a waddo o thiekeri kilo goto nder litterji tatti ndyiam dum haa heureji njelu?

heure goto. 

Translation: 

Get two rubber containers
in the first container, put one kilo of caustic soda,
do that to the other container
When they are both ready 
add three litters of water to each of them
stir them both 
then 
grab the cooking pot, take wood, light the wood, start cooking, put water in the pot, once dry, 
put the one kilo of shea butter into the cooking pot, melt it until it is all liquid 
once it is all liquid, then take the cooking pot of the fire until it is cooled. 
Add five liters of oil into the pot, once you add the five liters of oil until it is cool (and mixed)
then you do (muffled talk of no importance)
Pour it all once it is ready into the caustic soda and water, stir until it is thick (tape the tarp to the cardboard box for a mold, then..) pour all of it in the box.

Question: How many days.. how many days until you are able to cut it?

You do... two days. Two days you can separate the soap pieces, then you have to wait until two weeks, look to see if it is fully dry. 

Question: Caustic Soda, How long to do inside the container.. The caustic soda, if you put the one kilo of caustic soda with the three litters of water, how long do you have to wait until the mixture is done?

One hour. 



** Disclosure: Pulaar cannot be literally translated into English and vice versa. So, the English verbs that I translated from Pulaar aren't always the literal meanings of those verbs 

My First Group of women preparing the boxes for the soap form

Group photo before pouring the soap mixture into the boxes

Group photo in front of my hut

Teaching the men's group the sun heating technique that does not require a wood, cooking rocks or a pot to melt the mixture. The sun is too hot. Nange no wuuli haa bursi!

A bird's eye view of some of the soaps before I cut them

This is a multi-layer, wood ash and shea butter soap

This is a multi-layer marbled woodash and hibiscus soap


This is a multi-layered woodash and citron-orange soap with exfoliation factors 

Welcome to my life of being crafty. I am making stencils with the Peace Corps Logo and World Connect Logo to spray paint on the Tippy Tap Stations, for a beautification factor for a behavior change strategy. 


Sunday, May 22, 2016

The day(s) we “stomped out malaria”…

Malaria Awareness Month of Events April 25-May 25 2016

Malaria Month started on World Malaria Day, April 25th, where the district of Kolda held a walk for awareness march through the city of Kolda. We, Peace Corps Volunteers, passed out candy with malaria facts attached, held a banner, and joined in solidarity to support the cause of eliminating malaria.


What is Malaria?
Malaria is a intermittent and remittent fever caused by a protozoan parasite that invades and ruptures red blood cells. It is transmitted through mosquitos, specifically Plasmodium Falciparum female mosquitos that are out at sunset to sunrise. Once a person is infected with malaria and this mosquito is in contact with the blood of the infected person, the mosquito can then transmit the parasite to each individual he bites thereafter. It is an epidemic. The best way to prevent malaria is sleeping under a tightly tucked bed net, with no holes, to disallow mosquitos to enter the premises to bite (and thus infect) the individual. 

STOMP OUT MALARIA, a group that Peace Corps Volunteers are associated with, plan and coordinate malaria events all year long, however, this past month has been especially Malaria filled because of a competition between regions of Senegal to get the most points. We do certain malaria activities and each activity generates a designated amount of points. It is a friendly competition to motivate volunteers to spend a little extra time on malaria prevention and awareness. (Surprise, this blog gets me/Kolda points!) 

I know back when I did the bed net repair and care tourney, I told you all facts about malaria, but I was to remind you of a few more facts before I continue talking about my malaria activities this past month. 


As you can see, Kolda is one of the highest national averages for mortalities due to Malaria in Senegal based on this PNLP April 2010 study for 2009 at 9.56% when the national average is 4.41%. 




This PNLP chart illustrates the incidences of malaria per 1,000 inhabitants in each district in the year 2009. The Southern Region, where Kolda is, is in the highest with more than 15 per 1,000 inhabitant. 





This chart illustrates that Kolda is in the highest of incidences of children under five who tested positive for malaria in 2010-2011. Children under five and pregnant women have the highest risk of morbidity and mortality, in general, not just in malaria, throughout Senegal. 

As you can see, Malaria is a huge issue. HUGE. 

If one person doesn’t sleep under his net and is infected with malaria, he can give malaria to everyone in the village, because he has then infected the mosquito with the parasite in his blood, that will be then transferred to each individual the mosquito bites there after. 

This month I have done a health talk about malaria prevention, bed net care and repair event, bed net beautification event, training of trainers in my elementary school, two murals, a school lesson (I am slowly bust surely getting over my fear of public speaking), cue-to-action drawings to help kids remember why they were supposed to sleep under bed nets, translation of several documents into Pulaar, a bed net photo project. a malaria soccer tournament, a medication supply chain assessment at my Health Post, container garden training and materialization, several social media activities. I wanted to more, but with time constraints and other project and peace corps obligations, I didn’t manage to two murals, grass roots soccer, Work with Youth
at Risk, have a meeting with a NGO to discuss and formulate a Malaria Action Plan. Although, I still have three more days, I might be able to get more of these activities handles before the Malaria Month’s Activity Competition is over on May 25th. Wish me (and the Kolda Region) luck! 



Thursday, February 11, 2016

The day I talk about privilege…

The day I talk about privilege…
The basic human rights that we as people of the first world don't think twice about, but are abundantly absent here in Senegal. 

I've been back in Senegal for over a month since my vacation to the States. I heard a lot of varying explanations of how it would feel to be go back to the United States after living in Africa for almost a year. Most people said there is reverse culture shock. I am familiar with the concept of reverse culture shock and I have experienced it, minimally, after coming back from my first extended international trip to Bolivia when I was 17, and after I came back from living in Luxembourg in college. When I came back after living in India, I can say that my shock was not minimal, but striking. The way I lived there helped me prepare for the way I live here, in Senegal as a Peace Corps Volunteer living in the African Bush. So, when I came back to the States, I was prepared to feel overwhelmed and sad at the materialistic focused mindset that consumes us. And, I was... to an extent. But, it was amazing how easily I fell back into the groove of my old life...It was too easy. BUT, that didn't stop me from reflecting each time that I had a newfound perception of privilege. 

Privilege: 
noun
a special right, advantage of immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group of people

New Oxford American Dictionary

Eating Whenever You Want:
There is no pantry or refrigerator that you can grab your snack of choice when you are hungry in-between meals or just bored and want to munch on something. There is no electricity so there is no way to store perishable items. The sun is hot and spoils most things in a third of the time. Ice is hard to get outside of the cities so not only are you stuck without snacks you’re stuck without a nice cold beverage to cool you off in the middle of the day. 
When I first got here I ate rice each and every day, and I complained to my friends and family back home about it. Now, I get excited when I have rice in the bowl because rice with leaf sauce is a lot better than ground up corn with leaf sauce, which is what I have had for the past few months. You eat three times a day: Breakfast is around 10am, Lunch is around 2:30pm and Dinner is around 9:00pm. If you want something in between those times, you have to scavenge the forest for roots, nuts, fruit (if you are lucky and it is in season), or kill a bird or bush animal to snack on. I have had the same thing for breakfast, lunch and dinner for four days straight. FOUR DAYS with NO VARIETY. (fyi- the name of the dish is “Gosi Gerte,” rice porridge with peanut sauce) I would go to sleep and dream about the restaurant menus’ that previously gave me anxiety because all of the food options, cherishing every moment that I had so many options to choose from. Then I woke up, and ate the same thing again. 
Privilege is having electricity, having a way to store excess food, having excess food to snack on, knowing and understanding the food pyramid to have a variety of vegetables, proteins and carbs within each meal, not eating the same thing day-in-and-day out, and just being nourished so you are not anemic and nutrient deprived causing children at the young vulnerable age to not be as intelligent as they should be. 


Having a Bathroom & Washing Your Hands
Where is the bathroom you ask? It is out back..
No flushing, western toilet? Only if you are in a city and are really financially well-off. If not, you do your business in a hole. No shade over your hole and it is 120 degrees and the sun is pounding on your back? Sorry, make sure you don’t have to go during the middle of the day. Only in the early morning and in the evening can you avoid this problem. 
Looking for the TP? Think again—it is too expensive—You use your (left) hand.
Oh, you want to wash your hands after wiping with your hand? Hm, sorry, you need to pull the water from the well before you go to the hole. 
Oh, you don’t think just water is going to cut it, you want soap? Well, soap is too expensive. 
Oh, that isn’t hygienic? Well, then will you buy me the soap? 
No? Ok, well they look clean to me! 
Privilege is having a room, inside a building, with a locking door, and a flushing toilet, with toilet paper, where you can do your business in private without having someone talk to you through the fence as the suns melts off your back flesh.

That about sums up my experience with latrines and washing practices. I am currently doing a hand washing station and soap training project that helps to promote a behavior change shift to washing hands at the five critical times. (After going to the bathroom, after changing a baby’s “diaper,” before breastfeeding, before cooking and before eating) I recently did a training where I started out secretly with glitter on my hands, I greeted about a third of the group, transferring my glitter to them, and they greeted the others. After the first lesson, I had them look at their hands or their bodies and see if there was any glitter on them. Every single person had glitter somewhere on their bodies. I told them that is how bacteria is spread and how even though they didn’t have feces on their hands, if they shook someone hands that did then it will be transferred to their hands through that act alone. This was a visual technique; glitter can be seen, but microbes cannot. Later, I had six people come in front the group. I asked them if their hands were “clean” they all said “yes” then I had the first person in the line take hot peppers and rub her hands together really getting the juices out and warming up her hand. Then, I had each person shake the person to their right’s hand (starting with the person who had the pepper on her hands). After they were done greeting each other, I told them to touch their faces. No one would.They were all too scared because they knew the pepper would burn their faces. I asked them if there hand were clean. They responded “no.” I, then, I acted confused because they LOOKED like they did before the activity, why are they dirty now, but look the same as when they were “clean.” This technique is the same as the glitter for transmission, but showing that just because your hands look clean, you still need to wash them during the five critical times to live a proactively healthy life. It was a great training that really helped the people understand microbes and hand washing techniques. 
Privilege is growing up knowing that you need to wash your hands, understanding bacteria even as a child, and having running water and soap to wash your hands (AND a CLEAN towel to dry your hands).

Soap is “expensive” when they have so many other necessities to buy. I am teaching two villages how to make soap to replenish their hand washing stations’s soap when it is depleted. I am also going over a business plan for them to make excess and sell the excess for profit ensuring that they have enough money to replenish the supplies they need to make the next batch of soap.
Privilege is being financially secure to not have to choose between washing your hands with soap and drinking your afternoon tea.

Going to School & Graduating High School 
Most of us have complained about going to school at least once in our lives, but, we had nothing to complain about. Imagine going to school in a country that has a national language that you do not speak, but that is what the classes are taught in. How are you expected to learn anything if you haven’t even learned the spoken or written language? Immersion is the best way to learn? Not always the case. They are not taught critical thinking skills, but there teaching practices are reputation and regurgitation. If you ask them how to apply what they learned in a situation different than the one they were taught: 9/10 times, they won’t be able to do it. 
Privilege is going to school and being able to understand what is taught. Privilege is the opportunity to learn. 

If the students make it to middle school, most are held back for not passing the exam to pass their grade. Most of these students are girls. Girls do not get to study like the boys. Girls have to return from school, cook the lunches and dinners. Girls have to wash all the clothes and pull the water. Girls have to sweep and do all the house chores. I am not saying that the boys don’t have to do anything after they finish school for the day, but they have “boys’ jobs” like tying the cows or goats up at dusk. The boys get to study while the girls are doing the boys’ laundry and cooking the boys’ meals. Then, when it comes to pay for the tuition for the year, the parents don’t want to “waste” their money on the girls’ education because they are “just going to get married” and “they aren’t passing anyway.” Well, if the the girls had equal opportunity to study and had a positive home environment that encouraged studying, then, they very well could do better in school. It is a ruthless cycle, because if they don't have the education they won’t see the importance/value of education and won’t want to waste time, money and resources for their children to be educated, either.  A very, very small percentage of children make it to high school to graduate. 
An example inside my host family: NONE of my family made it to high school, and the women never made it to middle school, and some never finished their primary education. As for my younger teenage sisters, of the ages 18, 16, 15, only the 15 year-old is still attending school, but my family was refusing to pay for her education because she was too “dumb” and spent the past three years in the same grade. I gave them a guilt trip, but it is very likely that my dad will give her away to a man after I leave to relieve himself of the financial burden. The other two girls, both are betrothed to get married [as soon as their future husbands get enough money to have the marriage celebration] and one of them is pregnant [hopefully with her future husband’s child] and will be giving birth later this year, so they both dropped out of school last year, never making it past a ~6th grade education. My brothers are younger than my sisters, but my second dad gives them a lantern to study after the sun goes down, when my sister is cooking dinner. Although, I do not foresee them making it all the way to high school, because of the expense, I anticipate them finishing their middle school education. That being said, if they wanted to go to high school, I am sure my family would find a way to get the money for the boys to attend high school, which is not the case for the girls. 
Privilege is having your parents nag at you to do your homework and want you to succeed, whether you are a boy or a girl. Privilege is being able to do your homework.
Privilege is having enough money for school supplies and having the government pay for you to attend school.

The school are in different villages and the roads are laterite or bush trails. There are no school buses to pick you up to make your life easier and ensure you get to school. Here, the kids have to walk to school sometimes up to 7km. (From my village to the middle school is 5km) They do not serve lunches at the school, so they have to walk back to their houses in the dead heat of the day to eat lunch with their families and return to school later that evening. (That is walking 30km a day just for classes, in my village’s case!)
Privilege is having school transportation and not exhausting yourself walking 30km a day to school. Privilege is having excess time to study and do things that you want to do. Privilege is a proper education. 

Childproofing 
There is no concept of babysitters outside of older siblings, that in our world, should have a babysitter themselves. There is no idea of playpens to confine children in a certain area so they don’t get into something they shouldn’t. There is no such thing as childproofing here. I often find children playing with dull knives, putting them in their mouths and walking barefoot where the goats dispose of their bodily wastes. There are wells that are surface level without covers that children can fall into, and have no way out and drown. My most recent heartache of the lack of childproofing is open fires. The women cook over an open fire— think campfire. There is no walls to make a barrier between the flames and the people around it. The fires are on the ground, at the same level as little children. 
Two weeks ago, FOUR children fell into fires in one week. FOUR. All were under the age of five and are suffering immensely. (This in itself starts the topics of privilege in gender equality, in access to medical care, and in financial and self independence.) The mom of the three-year-old that tripped into the fire was balling, wanting to placate her child’s pain. The boy had third degree burns on his chin, chest, arms and hands. He was one giant pussing, blistering, skin peeling mess. He was screaming in agony. The mom wanted to take him to the hospital. She had to wait until her husband got home to ask him to take him. That took a whole day. The next day, still in agony, the dad says they won’t be taking him to hospital because it is too far away and they don’t have any money. The mom was furious. She didn’t agree, she wanted to take her child right away. But, because she is a woman and his wife, she can’t disobey him. I go to talk to them, trying to explain the severity of the situation. Telling them that they need to make sure he drinks ORS to replenish his electrolytes. They took that advice has his medicine. The husband told me because I didn’t have kids, he didn’t trust what I had to say about his kids. I explained it isn’t about having kids, but knowing how to deal with medical issues. 
Privilege is being able to protect your kids from harm’s way. Privilege are those annoying cabinet locks and door barriers. Privilege is having childcare. Privilege is having universal medical care. Privilege is having gender equality where you can choose to save your child’s life even if your husband doesn’t want to be bothered with it. Privilege is being able to go to a hospital in such emergencies and knowing there are charity cases and payment plans if you don’t have money. Health Insurance is a Privilege. Privilege is not taking your on flesh-and-blood’s life for granted. Privilege are pain killers and reliable transportation to obtain medical care. Life is a Privilege.

I am very aware that I need to write shorter blog posts so I won’t continue on my privilege rant. Just, be thankful for what you have and step back from any situation and realize that it could be a lot worse. 








Wednesday, December 2, 2015

The day I felt at home…


November’s travel obligations

I had every intension to try and stay at site as much as possible before I left for vacation to the USA in December, but that wasn’t possible. 

Jenny with her younger
sister with some freshly
picked peanuts.
Starting November 1st, we had the Field Orientation Training party, where all of the new volunteers came and saw their future homes for the next 2 years and at the end of their stay, we threw them a nice (Halloween themed) party. The next day they took their departure back to Thies and we current volunteers rallied another night for the Volunteers that were COS’ing (Close of Service, aka, they finished their 2 year service contract and were making the steps to get their medical clearance and head back to the States.) 

All the goods for making Attaya
I went back to site instead of going to the annual Tambaween party in Tamba the next day because I wanted to stay at site and get work done before my departure. I went to Santancoye to say goodbye to Jenny, my (old) site mate and then spent the afternoon at the health post with my ICP, talking and learning how to make attaya. I can’t believe that I was in the country for eight  months before attempting to learn how to make attaya! I am no pro, there is definitely a technique involved.


The new Toubab Store!
The next week we had the grand opening of our new Toubab restaurant that “we had” to come into Kolda to support development, working in international development in all. It is a little over-the-top and not really meant for the locals to eat at because of the prices, but it is our little slice of Dakar, which is a slice of America, so it is almost, almost like being home. Almost. 

I went back to site for a few days and developed an allergic reaction to something. What? That is still to be determined. But, my throat and tongue was swollen (along with other parts of my body) and I had a rash all the way from my face down to my legs. I came into Kolda to call med and get some medicine. Unfortunately that took three more days out of site than I wanted, and I had other obligations where I would be out of site for two weeks starting two days later. I biked back to village, did laundry, packed my bag and prepared my room for two weeks away. The next night I biked into Kolda because early the next morning I, along with four other Kolda volunteers, were headed off to DiobΓ© for the MCC (Millennium Challenge Corporation) R6 inauguration. We went to pick up the Ambassador and other embassy and MCC employees from the Kolda airport (kind of a big deal) and then went around to  see the project’s details and sites. Thereafter, we attended a ceremony where my friend Jim (Moussa Balde) and I (Miariama Diamanka) got special shot outs from one of the radio people. After the ceremony, we all came back to Kolda and had a great lunch at the Hobbe hotel and got to network and enjoy ourselves.
The crew with the Ambassador
and other Embassy Staff from Dakar
that are RPCVs.
The inauguration location. It was pretty
extravagant! 


   The following day, I went to my friend LK’s site for the night, to prepare for a bed net care and repair tourney the next day and then make our way through the trek that is 20k of true African bush trails, sand, fields, forest, and hills!


Sand is the worst thing to
bike through.. no questions

Why? We went to visit Annie at her site with the intentions to paint a health hut mural. Annie has the most amazing family and village. The road to her site, on the other hand, is brutal. I admire her even more than I did before after tackling it. And, she does it ALL the time. No wonder she is so in shape and I’ve gained 22 pounds.  

A beautiful tree on the way to
Annie's site.
LK and me starting out the trek with smiles
We spent less than 24 hours at her site before returning to Kolda because I had to leave the next morning with Barb to spend five days at Brandon’s site in Ndorna doing a bed net care and repair tourney there. Brandon named one of his mom’s Rachel, and Rachel is amazing. So caring and hilarious. They are best buds. His family has amazing food. The best Senegalese food I have ate (a part from Training Center food, but, very competitive), so he is living it large at his site.

Annie transplanting a banana tree during our
Agriculture on-demand training
After going to three villages for the bed net tourney, it was time to return to Kolda in time for the regional meeting the next day, followed by on-demand agriculture training the following day. Although the Kolda Thanksgiving was the day after that, I still went home the afternoon after the ag- on- demand training, because I bought pineapple and some other plants that I did not have enough space on my bike to carry it all back at once since I was already traveling with two weeks of travel supplies. So, after learning some great techniques, I grabbed my plants and biked back to site to do some gardening. 

Now, after all of that background information comes to the point of this blog post…

I arrived back in my village, and everyone was surprised because I said I wasn’t coming home until the 24th, and It was only the 22nd. News travels fast in a small village. Apparently a small child saw me on the road biking back to site, they ran and told other kids in the next village, who then ran and told the people in my village. So, by the time I arrived at my hut, I had people standing and clapping singing that I had arrived. It was all very sweet, but I wasn’t exactly in the mindset for a big homecoming, I had numerous things to accomplish before dark because I had to bike back in the morning for the Kolda Thanksgiving. I greeted everyone and they helped me unpack my plants. Most of the people were still out in the fields harvesting the rice, cotton and/or peanuts, so I didn’t have to worry about offending anyone by going to my backyard and not socializing.

My holes for my pineapples
My holes for my flowers


   






I had to dig 7 large holes: 1 to transplant my water deprived banana plant to new, more desirable location, 5 holes for my new pineapple plants, and a lime tree nursery location. Since we are now in the dry season, digging deep, wide holes isn’t that easy. I had to go and pull seven extra large buckets full of water to moisten the ground in two steps to get the desired depth. Mind you, my back has been hurting more than usual because of all of the travel and less than desirable sleeping arrangements, so my back was wobbly. Thus, carrying buckets full of water on my head wasn’t easy and I was spilling the water with every step I took. This also started the gossip train and as more people were coming back from the fields, the more people wanted to come and catch up with me. My second dad, Sadio, my neighbor Ibu, and another one of my good friends, Salu, they all came to my back yard to chit-chat as I worked. My second dad, he took his place in my hammock while Ibu helped me plant my pineapple plants. Salu




The finished product after I
extended my fencing and swept
my backyard, yes, we sweep dirt
here in Senegal. Each.And.Every.Day.
came later to check it all out. It felt so comfortable and natural digging holes, pulling water, getting dirty and talking to my friends at the same time. The fact that after Ibu’s long day in the field, he still wanted to interact with me enough to come help me plant my plants instead of relaxing. That really hit home. It was pure kindness. They told me they were mad that I was gone for so long. That comment made t hard to tell them that I was leaving again in the morning for Thanksgiving and I would be back until the following day, and five days later I would be leaving to start my journey to the States for my vacation, AND that I wouldn't be back until after the new year. They had a look of shock and disappointment on their faces that you would see on a child’s face when their parents left them for the first time. Pure sadness. Ibu told me that he didn’t agree and that I wasn’t allowed to go because they would miss me too much. It was then that I realized, that I, too, would miss them. 


I looked around after everything was planted, and I felt an ease I haven't felt in a long time. I was home. My village, my hut, my family, my friends and community members, they are my home now. It was a great realization and even better feeling. 

Monday, November 2, 2015

The day I put on a sweatshirt ...

The day I put on a sweatshirt ...
An ADD version of the power or a bounce dryer sheet during a stressful time:

It was the second day of the new year, the Islamic lunar calendar, and I spent the past two days in my hut/bed with a head cold (kids and their germs!), so I didn't participate in any of the activities. Apparently there were professional Senegalese wrestlers in town (not the same thing in the USA, these guys are a lot of work up and a lot of style) and dance parties galore. 
I have been feeling lazy, partly due to being under the weather and partly because I am a little "depressed" about gaining so much weight here.

 I quote depressed, but I think it is an adequate but dramatic description. Most of the day I don't think about about my weight gain, only when I am showering, laying down or trying to find clothes that fit me-- that's one problem when getting clothes made to fit you, ever since coming here I've been gradually getting bigger and thus my wardrobe is decreasing despite the increase in clothing. I can't even fit into the stuff I had made one month ago, let alone my big expenditure (6 new articles of clothing) in Thies with the coveted tailor, Aisattou. I'm kind of (read:very) nervous to come back to the States for vacation because I won't be able to fit into any of my clothes! I can't really diet because I have little control over my food, but I'm starting to exercise more to help counteract all this darn rice! 

I digress, I haven't been that motivated despite my planner being full, except a few days for repose, up until I come home in December. October 15th was World Hand Washing Day, and I was "stuck" at the regional house until late that evening so I didn't make it back in time to do a Hand Washing Causerie that was supposed to kick off my big Tippy Tap, hand washing station, project. Well, since then I changed up my plans and Annie came to visit for a night ( refer to previous post ) and then I ended up staying in Kolda an extra night (ok, it was actually two extra nights) to relax and get some work done. I bought all the soap making supplies the first day and the second day I bought the Michelle Silvester Scholarship girls' their school supplies. 

 I also bought all the fabrics for the aprons and change purses that I am going to be selling when I'm back in the States for fundraising purposes for my Health Hut. (I'm so jealous of all the fabrics, I can't wait to get a new outfit made when I get back from vacation in January!) if you're interested in buying them for Holiday gifts, the aprons are going to be $15 and the change purses are going to be $12. Once I get a few aprons and change purses made, I'll post pictures. I'm so excited about this project! I tried to take the fabric to the tailor but everyone discouraged me from dropping that much at one time, so I ended up going down with enough fabric for one apron, but he wasn't there so I need to go back tomorrow to try to get the project up and running. I've been holding off because I've been waiting for a package my mom sent to arrive with an apron I liked for the model and the clips for the change purses. Since I don't have the apron model or the change purse clips, I printed off a picture of another apron and I'm going to have some of the change purses be zippered instead of clipped. It will just add variety, I guess. I can't wait any longer because I run the very high possibility that they won't be finished in the 6 weeks before I leave for Dakar and to the States.

Espresso not helping at all. 
Ok, back to the point of this post... 
I've been sick with a cold. Nothing abnormal, just a head cold. But, I think it just put the cherry on top of my lack of motivation phase. In the past three days, I've read two books, made a flip chart visual aids for my hand washing causerie and my soap making formations, wrote scripts for my trainings, and did a practice run for the soap making since I've never done this type of recipe before.

Actually, I haven't even made soap since I was in 8th grade and went high up in the rankings of the state science fairs. It was all my mom though, she had the idea and we did the project together, we used different animals' lard in our recipe rather than recipe I have here that just uses oils. Last minute before returning to village, I had to delete pretty much everything off of my phone, photos, texts, etc., so put this new playlist Annie made me, it was only 79 songs, but my phone would not accept I had space until I got rid of everything. Well, this included my instructions and recipe for the soap. I knew the ingredients, I just didn't know how much of the carbonate and how much of the coco butter to mix in and the cooking time estimates, I called another volunteer that helped me with the local names of the ingredients so I could buy them in the market to ask if she remembered. I forgot to ask about the coco butter so I put it all in. It turns out, I should have only put half of it in. I'm still waiting to see if it will work out and dry appropriately, I hope it will. At least I learned from my mistake before I taught others how to do it. (update: did not work out) 

I made the soap New Year's Eve's Eve, and that was the last time I went out of my hut for the next three days. I did a little bit of laundry on the second day, but it never dried because the sun didn't dry it fast enough since I waited until late afternoon to put them out to dry. That night, it seemed like it was going to rain, the skies darkened, thunder roared and the winds gushed. I had to bring everything inside, all my outside mattresses, the drying soap, my  bike and my damp clothes. The night got a little "chilly" and I covered up with a blanket. When I woke up, I peered outside and the ground was dry; it never rained. But, the sky was darkened and I knew it would start raining soon. My hut, as most things do here during the raining season, smells musty from all the dampness. The winds came and so did the rain, making it the coldest since my arrival in Senegal, and I'm sure it is no lower than the mid 70s. I was reading, got a chill, and remembered I had a Roxy sweatshirt, one of my favorites from the States. I semi-recently washed it because it was hanging up with my rain jacket and bookbag, and my roof was dropping all sorts of debris from the termites living in my thatched roof then when it started leaking in that spot, I had to take action before my hut became fetid. Washing clothes here doesn't give the same sense of a clean and fresh feel, normally, they still smell and are still dirty even after double rinsing in buckets. I can't figure out how the water can turn so dark so fast after all the washing, scrubbing and rinsing! Well, anyway, my grandma, in her first care package she sent me a box of bounce dryer sheets. I have been putting them on my sheets and other things to dry on the clothes line. I put a few sheets in this sweatshirt for storage, awhile back. 

When I got up to put the sweatshirt on, I got a rush of freshness and comfort. Not only was I wearing one of my comfort clothes from back home, but it smelled like home too. I guess that means home smells clean! Never thought I would describe it that simply, but it is true: Home = Clean. 

Mind you, I only wore the sweatshirt for 10 minutes before it got wayyy too hot and the freshness faded and my body odor appeared. And, unfortunately, they are not one in the same. I took my sweatshirt off to preserve what I could of the glorious smell, since I've been out of dryer sheets for awhile now, and I lathered on another layer of deodorant. BUT, those 10 minutes of feeling clean and smelling clean, it helped me get out of my funk and now I've been a busy bee trying to make up for lost time to keep on schedule. If only it could get rid of my cold, too. (update: I'm healthy! yay!) 

Friday, October 30, 2015

The day I got lost...

The day I got lost...
Annie's Visit:



My outdoor bed/ entertaining area
(minus the roofing and my hammock)

Out of the blue, the winds blew rezo (cell phone service) my way and my little Nokia phone, got a buzz. I received a text from my fellow Ohioan and Miami alumni volunteer, Annie Cleary. Annie is a godsend. I am so lucky to have her in my region and as a friend. She was at the regional house and decided she wanted to "invite herself" to my site. My hut is an open invitation, I love hosting guests and I hardly ever have them. I have literally tailored my outdoor living space for entertaining guests, with my targeted audience as Americans not my village. I got so excited that I ran to a mango tree that normally has a little rezo to call and tell her that nothing would make me happier than for her to come to my site and then the next day we could both bike back to Kolda together. 
Annie has never been to my site, but it is a pretty easy to find. I told her I would meet her at the "main" road before my legitimate bush road starts about an hour after she said she was going to take her departure. I was doing some last minute cleaning in preparation for her arrival, including washing my sheets with my newly splurge Dakar purchase of fabric softener. I was nervous that I was leaving later than I told her I would meet her, and what would be expected for her to reach that area of the route in her departure time. It wouldn't have been a huge deal, except I didn't even tell her the name of he village to turn off on, I just told her to bike until she saw me. Eekk. I biked my heart out to reach the road, talked to people that passed by asking them if they saw a woman toubab riding a bike, everyone said they hadn't... Yet. Then, I saw the village chief of the village over hanging out in what can only be described as a tree stand. I asked him if he saw Annie (the toubab) and he said he's been looking out for her, like a hunter waiting for the deer to approach, creepy. Then, he told me that my counterpart informed him of her upcoming arrival and that she didn't know the road, so to not let her get lost. Thank Allah Hoyo knows how I work and put backup plans into action (without even telling me). I stood under his tree stand and waited for the white girl to appear around the corner. Once I saw Annie, I was thrilled I didn't screw her over by my tardiness.
We got to my village and took our bucket baths, listened to some music and planned our afternoon. We decided to do something girly and put some lemon juice (another splurge from a previous visit to Dakar) in our hair and put the African sun to use for once and try to get some highlights out of the ordeal. After the commencement of our proclaimed slumber party, with our highlight aspirations, we had lunch, and departed to a few villages over to check in with my ICP (the doctor) at the health post to see how the PECADOM+ program was going, make sure there was medicine for the sweeps and the malaria season, and to go check out this river my sitemate, Jenny, told me about, that was supposed to have all sorts of exotic birds native to Senegal. We started out our adventure biking bush paths through fields and forests that were only a bike tire wide and overgrown with tall weeds that when pedaling past you get slapped in the face. The paths are so climate controlled that the erosion drops down the sand and clay and you shouldn't look up for more than a few seconds because if you don't watch the path change you're bound to wipe out. When telling Annie the plan to go to Santancoye, I left out the detail in order to get to the village we would have to cross a seasonal river that was mid-thigh deep.
Annie crossing the river like a champ!
Annie was a trouper when we crossed it and through the whole bush path ordeal. We were actually on a wild goose chase when it came to the river because everyone we asked said that there was no such river. Once we arrived to the health post, asked our questions and was told that there wasn't medicine, per usual of Senegal's unorganized government and cultural operations. Bummer. We asked again about the river, resolved to have our relaxing few hours sitting under a tree eating our Klaus cookies, we once again told this river didn’t exist.
Our river view
So, we went to this area where I remember seeing a bridge during one of my exploration voyages to neighboring villages. We arrived to the river, which in everyone's defense is a seasonal river, laid our blanket down, sat under this hundred year old tree, with our cooling towels over our necks, fans in one hand, cookies in the other, we watched a lady harvesting rice, a few birds, and a suspicious branch floating and moving in the current, we were praying it wasn't a crocodile. A man in my neighboring village was killed by a crocodile and apparently the villagers killed the croc and ate its meat for protection against it.. Or, I like to think it is their way of sweet revenge. We watched the sky turn different colors as the sun was starting to set. We thought it was best to start back to my village while we still had plenty of light. It was a nice relaxing afternoon, and we were ready to get back, shower and eat dinner. Well, there are three paths that one can take to get to my village from where we were.
Our tree =) It is probably at least one year old
 I haven't been down the path from my village because everyone has said it is too bad to take this time of year, each path everyone tells their stories about how deep and to what body part the water is up to. To be frank, I've only taken the path(s) back to my village before the rains started and without all the weeds. I didn't know the exact path to take, but I didn't think it would be that hard to find.. I mean, how many could there be? Well, the answer is... A lot. I couldn't recognize the path, we went up and down numerous paths, all which we swore we didn't recognize because of some distinct feature we assumed we would have noticed coming in. For instance, one path had a lot of thorns that when we past the thorns and came out with bloody bodies pick out 7+ thorns from our arms, one was because the path was wider than a tire, one was because a pretty tree canopy, another was a large termite hill. It was getting late, and the sun was almost set. I decided that I knew how to get home the long way, not through the thick bush trails by going through Sare Samba. I remember stories of the river penetrating the road, but never saw it first hand, I figure it would be similar to the path that I take from Sare Guiro. I was wrong. We reached the water and it was sooooo wide and it looked deep. I didn't know what to do, I could only laugh. How did I not know how to get us home?! I asked Annie what she wanted to do, I told her that it could be at the most as deep as out necks, thinking that we could make it, not realizing how ridiculous that sounded with our bikes over our head walking almost 100 feet. We would have drowned. Plus, we psyched ourselves out about crocodiles from the previous adventure, that we were nervous what we would find in the water. Annie said, "let's do this path by last resort" but I was already thinking it was our last resort because by the time we MAYBE find the RIGHT path, it would be dark and extremely hard to navigate the trail without killing ourselves or getting pretty banged up in the process. Reluctantly, we turned around, went down a few of the trails we previously explored and were still lost. Luckily I know a family in a village in between the path and Santancoye, one of the compounds there is my younger brother, whose hut I took over with my arrival, forcing him to move in with this extended family. Annie and I previously greeted them, so going back asking desperately and almost pathetically to help us find the path, they just laughed, and my brother biked us to the path. I told Annie, if I saw that dang termite mound again (we already tried this path twice before) I was going to die. Well, we passed that mound, at least I think we did because it was pretty dark. I just can't believe we didn't notice these prominent "landmarks" despite our eyes being locked on the ground. I have horrible night vision and surprisingly Annie and managed to maneuver through the windy, uneven, sand paths filed with tall weeds, across the river, and up the steep hills to the neighboring village leading to my village. I only fell twice (the first time I fell was last week on my way to another village for the bed net care and repair tourney on the same road, the sand is impossible to bike through without tumbling over.)
One of the small paths we thought could be the correct path
Notice how high the weeds are and how narrow the trial is...
We got back, my family upset because they assumed I got us lost and they went looking for us and couldn’t find us. I told them about our attempts to find our way back and contemplating crossing the huge, deep river. They laughed. We took another, much needed bucket bath and passed out for the night. 
We woke up to leave for Kolda in the morning, realized that Annie’s bike had a flat tire and we had to repair the tube, being yet again, another toubab spectacle. It was an adventure that I couldn’t imagine doing with anyone else.

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