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 Diobé 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.

#Ohioansarethebest
#thirdworldproblems
#crocodilesintherivers
#Danhateshashtags



Monday, October 19, 2015

The day(s) I saved lives…

The day(s) I saved lives…
Malaria Awareness: Mosquito Bed Net Care and Repair Tourney

First off, I want to rant off some startling facts about Malaria:

3.2 Billion People, almost half of the world’s population are at risk of malaria, and 1.2 billion are at high risk

Globally, in 2013, there were:
-198 million cases of Malaria
-90% of all malaria deaths occurred in sub-Saharan Africa
-78% of the aforementioned deaths occurred in children under five years of age
-97 countries have on-going malaria transmission
-80% of the estimated malaria deaths occur in 18 of most affected Countries

Between 2001-2013, an estimated 4.2 million lives were saved as a result of a scale-up of malaria interventions. 97%, 4.1 million, of these lives saved are in the under-five age group in sub-saharan Africa.

Let’s relate those numbers and bring it home..
Nearly 750,000 deaths per year (90% in Africa), which is more than the population of Wyoming, Vermont, North Dakota or Alaska. 

Does anyone remember what a big fuss Ebola was/is? Do you remember how worked up everyone got about the deaths and the transmissions? Do you remember how once it started spreading, to the motherland (heaven forbid that a disease that is wiping out people in Africa come to the United States), people started funding and developing treatments and vaccinations? Well, I would love to put Malaria in perspective with Ebola for you all to grasp the gravity of Malaria…

In 2014, there were 4,877 deaths from Ebola, and Malaria kills an estimated 1.2 MILLION people a year. Heh. A little discrepant in our reaction for the Ebola outbreak and lackthereof for Malaria? I think yes. 


Senegal’s Population: 13.7 Million
Percent at Risk for Malaria: 100%
Estimated Malaria Cases: 3.8 Million
Health Education Reached in 2011: 6.8 Million 
Estimated Bed Net Usage in 2009: 27%
Estimated Bed Net Usage in 2011: 61%
People Visiting Clinic at First Symptoms in 2009: 30%
People Visiting Clinic at First Symptoms in 2011: 63% 

The above statics are from various sources including nomoremalaria.org, WHO, UNICEF, and the CDC. Sorry for the poorly sited statistics, but this was just meant to inform you all of the crisis, not as an official report. 

Below is a link discussing Malaria facts from WHO:

http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs094/en/

Please visit the site below to see the WHO’s statistics covering Senegal’s Malaria situation to better understand the gravity of behavior change and educational outreach for eliminated malaria. 


Other interesting health statistics by UNICEF can be found at the link below:


In 2011, Peace Corps Senegal joined together with all of the other
Peace Corps Africa countries to finally “Stomp Out Malaria” in Africa.
Currently it is the number one cause of death in Senegal, and much of
the entire population lives in high-transmission zones. There are over
3,000 volunteers across the continent who, like me, are working to bring malaria deaths in Senegal to zero by 2020. You can check out some of the cool projects being done at http://stompoutmalaria.org/ . Even though World Malaria Day is April 25th, the rainy season in Senegal is from July-October (ish) and Malaria season is at the peak June-December (ish). The southern regions, like my region, Kolda, are at the highest risk for Malaria. Volunteers take malaria prophylactics and sleep under bed nets to mitigate the risk of malaria. But, prophylactics are not feasible for the African population because not only of the cost and the long term side effects but also the mosquitos that would carry the parasite responsible would become resistant and immune to the medications, creating a superbug, making it that much, much harder for malaria to be treated and eliminated. (Think the penicillin and other antibiotics issue we face in the States and in other developed countries that over prescribe antibiotics.. pretty scary stuff.) 


Nate, Vanessa and Hoyo in Sare Guiro. Nate 
showing off his fancy beautification hole patch. 
Africans, and I am speaking from my Senegalese standards, are encouraged to sleep under bed nets because the mosquitos that carry the malaria parasite, Anopheles, are out and about during the hours of dusk to dawn, thus the transmission is the highest during these times; ergo the importance of sleeping under a bed net. A Presidential Campaign went into effect a few years ago, where the health posts go out and do a monthly vaccination for the children five and under during the rainy season to help prevent the child mortality rate, and women who are pregnant get a similar medication during their pre-natal visits. Free. These two groups are given preventive medication because they are the highest risk for malaria. 

Although there are numerous campaigns encouraging and educating the people about malaria and bed nets as a preventive method, it is a behavior change that is hard to make a paradigm switch. I will be the first to admit, those nets are HOTTTT when you are sleeping under them and when it is already miserably hot (I have yet to experience a day that wasn’t…) without the extra bed net heat, convincing people to have sleepless nights enduring the heat is extremely hard. If I wasn’t so concerned about the creepy crawly things that come out at night crawling on me, I think I would almost be willing to sleep without a bed net, too, because how hot it is. And, that isn’t good. If only there were a way to make the nets impregnated with the insecticide, impenetrable by mosquitos, and lightweight and airy #bigdreams But, that fabric has yet been discovered to manufacture bed nets. (to my knowledge..)

Let’s talk about the Kolda Bed Net Care and Repair Tourney I participated in! 

During one of the causeries educating people about the importance of bed net care and repair, malaria transmission, symptoms and treatment and social responsibilities in the fight against malaria. 
A few years ago, there was a universal bed net dispersement and little by little every region and every village should have received free bed nets to fight against malaria. Since then, Peace Corps Volunteers do Bed Net Care and Repair Bike Tourneys within their Regions to reach out to villages, wash the nets, sew up any holes and make any desired changes that would encourage the behavior change for sleeping under the nets.  The tourney is still going on, but last week my work zone did my three villages, and a few other villages in my in my work zone. Now, we are just missing Abigail’s and Brandon’s to finish up our work zone tourney. It was a great experience, not only because it was the first time that I had guests out to my site and got to experience special treatment and “good” food at my site, but working beside volunteers that have been here long and have better language skills and have acquired more vocabulary not only inspired me to work harder, but I learned at lot along the way. 
After the last day of the tourney, leaving the site we
had to bike in a downpour around 10k through
bush trials resulting in a very messy bike and
wardrobe that may never be rid of the sand.
I went to four villages during the tourney, and I plan to do more when Brandon gets back to Senegal and when Abigail's start. It is hard work though! My back still hurts from leaning over sewing up countless holes in nets, transforming rectangle nets to circle nets, adding fabric to make it more eye-appealing or to patch up big holes. We had to encourage the people that owned their nets to do the work themselves and we would just help speed up the process. If we just showed up and did all the work, they wouldn’t be taking ownership of their health, and who knows when the next time a toubab will show up to do something similar. They shouldn’t wait for a toubab to come to take care of their nets and thus their health, they need to learn to take initiative. So, not only did we bring materials to wash, sew, and beautify the nets, we also had causeries telling them exactly how they should care for their net AND why they need to take action. Most people who have nets, were not necessarily informed on the proper techniques of bed net care. For instance, because the bed nets are impregnanted with a long lasting insecticide, they can’t use detergent, they have to use ordinary soap, and they have to be dried in the shade, out of the sun. They shouldn’t be washed more than two times a year, but if there is a lot of dirt on the nets, they dirt prevents the insecticide from being as effective and thus not killing the mosquitos that land on it, which if it is clean, helps prevent transmission. Another thing that is extremely important we talked about is illustrating that is isn’t one person’s responsibility for their health, it is a whole community’s responsibility. If one person allows a mosquito to bite him/her and transmit the parasite into his/her bloodstream, then that blood is infected, and when another mosquito comes along and bites that person, that mosquito becomes infected and then bites another person, infecting the other person.. it is a tragically devastating ripple effect. So, if someone knows that someone in the community isn’t sleeping under a bed net, doesn’t own a bed net, or doesn’t take proper care of the bed net, they have to call that person(s) out on their behavior. That person isn’t only putting his/her own health into jeopardy, but the entire communities. 
My bike after the last day, minus a lot of the wet sand. 

A lot of Peace Corps is getting the community to take ownership, whether it be their finances, education, health, development projects, etc., and this is a great example of how we are here to help them  take ownership of their health by chastising those who are endangering their own health, and thus the health of the community. 

One of the most important, in the moment, parts of the tourney is having an ASC at each event. An ASC is a health worker that is allowed to test for malaria and give out medication if they test positive. During the tourney we have numerous people who tested positive and got their medication, essentially saving their lives. 

All in the day’s work of a Peace Corps Volunteer.
#credibility 





Monday, October 5, 2015

The day I slept in a sept-place, AKA- slept-place...

The day I slept in a sept-place, AKA- slept-place (that pun is thanks to the lovely Annie Cleary)...
Travel Nightmares living so far from Dakar. 

I woke up thinking I should just stay another night and enjoy Oktoberfest with my friends in Dakar. In fact, I went back to bed for another half hour. I woke up again and decided that I couldn't afford another day in Dakar (I went through my entire monthly allowance for October and it was only October 3rd. Dakar is expensive and I stayed in the city for over a week. I had 6,000 CFA (12$) to spare for the whole month IF things worked out how I planned. And, by the way, that 12$ is allllll change I gathered and was resorted to. It's going to be a very tight month) and I started preparing my belongings for my departure. Usually, it is wise to leave by the latest 3:30am, but since I went back to bed, I was leaving at 4am. I had to buy cat food to (inshallah) last until January when I come back from my vacation from The States, so I had an extra heavy bag I had to carry on my head to the main road to find a taxi to take me to the garage. I reached the garage with a almost native familiarity now and asked a man standing next to a sept-place which sept-place was leaving for Kolda, he pointed to the one I stopped at, the second one to the end (which I already assumed) and said I just got the last seat! Awesomely Horrible. I didn't have to wait for the next sept-place, but I got the worst seat in the car. The guy was trying to overcharge me for my extra bag, and I was getting mad, calling him a bandit and saying he was trying to steal from me because I was white. We met somewhere in the middle in the price dispute, lowering my already tight money situation. Even though I bought the last seat, we were waiting on a person to arrive that showed up super early, but went somewhere to get something else. We didn't leave until 5:30am. Not off to a good start, but I didn't think it would be the end of the world. I had reservations pretty much every step leading up to our departure. We tried several gas stations in Dakar but none were open or they were too busy. I never reallllly believed in omens, but sometimes you can't miss the signs of trepidation. We eventually got gas, and I was trying to avoid being touched by this man that is coming back to Kolda to live a few villages over from mine. He told me he wants an American wife and I found him reaching over and casually touching me by draping his arm behind the seat. I think his older brother was on to him because at one point when we all got out of the car, the man tried to switch seats with his brother who was sitting in between us, and even though his brother had the worse seat, he wouldn't let it happen. I was very grateful for him in that moment. We ended up stopping in Kaolack, a not-so-nice-little over-half-way mark to get breakfast. I wasn't happy about the stop because we were already running behind and we could just wait a few hours and eat while we waited at The Gambia River to cross. But who listens to the toubab? No one. I bought 1,000 CFA (2$) of food, some yogurt and some bread, hoping to tide me over until we reached Kolda where I have some food at the regional house to eat for dinner. Shortly after our breakfast stop our car started to overheat and break down. We were going every 100m stopping and going, stopping and going, stopping and going. We ran out of water to refill the radiator, and I only had a little water left in my bottle and didn't want to give it up. I can't just drink any water like everyone else in the car. I almost thought about getting a ride back to the Kaolack regional house and just try to depart in the morning, but I realized I didn't have the funds to buy another seat the next day, so I endured the stops. We finally reached The Gambia a little after 11am, honestly really good timing for stopping so much. I wasn't overly concerned until I saw how far back we had to stop in the line. The line to cross was the longest I have ever seen it. Everyone got out except the man that was trying to feel me up, his brother, the driver and me. I moved to the front passenger seat and started a new book. It wasn't until my stomach started to growl from hunger did I realize I might be in a situation because we hardly advanced in the line and it was now 5pm. I skipped lunch hoping to still make it to Kolda for my next meal, but I couldn't wait any longer and my water was depleted. I spent 1,400 CFA (3$) on an omelette sandwich and a bottle of water. My 6,000 CFA, was diminishing and my positive attitude about getting home started to fade.  I called my friend Annie to talk about my unfortunate situation and run over some figures with her to see if I could afford another sept-place ticket if I crossed The Gambia and abandoned my sept-place and got on another one after the line. We decided I didn't have enough money and it was too risky to cross without knowing for sure. I finished my book as it started to get dark, and remembered that there is a road block put in place every night after dark until 6:30am that we would be affected by. At this point, we advanced a substantial amount in the line and almost thought we were going to make it across the river before the ferry closed for the night. I decided that I needed to call Mbouille, Peace Corps' Safety and Security main man, because this type of travel is forbidden by Peace Corps.  Even though I let them know my travel whereabouts at 5am, so they knew I did not anticipate this situation, I knew it wasn't a good thing to be in my predicament. Especially alone. I ended up using my entire Month's phone credit allowance in just a few hours calling Annie, my mom called me, and then several communications with Mbouille because of the roaming charges in Gambia. Great. Now I don't have any money for the month and I don't have any phone credit for the month either. October isn't looking so good. I quickly realized that I wasn't crossing the river and the road block shouldn't even be a concern because the ferry wouldn't reopen until 8am. It started to thunder, lightening, and downpour. Everyone hurried to get into the car, but I was still in the passenger seat, occupying another man's seat. They all hopped in the car and told me we can all switch back after the rain. Well, at that point I just got off the phone with Mbouille (Safety and Security) with the realization that I would be spending the night in the "slept-place." With the previous unsolicited attention in my original seat, I wasn't comfortable sleeping back there, so I managed to charm the man to sleep in the front. He is actually very interesting. Before I turned on my charm, I didn't know how to communicate with him because I only heard him speak in Wolof, but, then, I heard some sing-song language that perked my interested. After listening for a minute I realized it was Italian, and it was the guy whose seat I was occupying!! I was incredibly intrigued and impressed with my initial assessment of him; he had dreadlocks that were so perfectly clean looking that I knew that he didn't live here. But, he spoke Wolof, so he had to, right? Well, it turns out he was born here, moved to Italy as a young child and started working as a mechanic and now works as an engineer for Fiat. Usually, I am too embarrassed to use my French to try to have conversations, but I was too intrigued with him, and my curiosity got the best of me, so had I had to indulge. I have come to realize that I can't do language switches seamlessly, not even with English and Pulaar. I haven't really spoken French since 2008, so I was pretty rusty speaking, but I understood (almost) everything. After a few hours of talking my French improved significantly, and once midnight approached, I had four allies in the car and I felt safe sleeping in a place that I previously was terrified of. Well, not the exact place because I slept up front, but I was terrified of sleeping in a sept-place open and vulnerable. One of the people that the guy was traveling with lives in Dakar and was even practicing his English with me. Surprisingly, I could translate his French quickly enough to English for it to be somewhat effective. 

After spending the night tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable, which literally no sleep, I took out my ear plugs at 6am and started a new book. When I got out of the car, to my surprise, we still had a long way to go before our turn on the ferry approached. I thought it could be very possible that I would see Annie at The Gambia before crossing since was scheduled to depart the morning after I did. I tried to call her but with no credit in The Gambia, I couldn't get through. After a record breaking 23.5 hours wait, my sept-place and my 6 new friends (we lost one person who decided to take a different sept-place to save time) crossed the Gambian River, and made our way to Kolda, exchanging contact information and sending friend requests on Facebook. 

Annie called and she crossed The Gambia a few hours after I did. I should have just waited the extra day and went back with her. After I got to the regional house I took a much needed shower, made some lunch, watched a movie and then took a nap that turned into 16 hours of sleep. Now, I am going to the post office this morning and relax a little until I bike back to my village in the morning. I plan on taking advantage of this absence-of-money-poor-situation and plan on spending the next 3 weeks at site. 

And if you're wondering what the tally is for how I just made it by money wise, I have 2,100 CFA left for the the rest of the month. And, it is only the 5th. 

I am growing so much over here. 
And I'm not just talking about my stomach from all the rice. 

You can make decisions, but some decisions make you. And with Peace Corps it is a never ending cycle of making decisions that end up making me more of who I am. 

Oh, since I said in my last post that my next post would be about Tabaski, I should at least mention it. 

Tabaski is the biggest holiday of the Muslim religion, we celebrate it for 3 days, but I had to go to Dakar unexpectedly and left the evening of the first night. Everyone liked the candy I bought to give out since I refuse to give money out, it was a nice compromise, even if the elders weren't amused and would have preferred money. Sometimes you just have to show them you aren't there to give them money nor are Americans an endless supply of money. 
Everyone loved my new komplet and my hair. They said that I was a true Senegalese now. 

Typically cutting a ram's throat is supposed to be a big part of this holiday, but once again, we didn't have money and thus didn't have a goat, ergo we lacked any meat in our dinner bowl. Nonetheless, we still enjoyed the holiday. However, when I biked into Kolda that evening to prepare for my early departure to Dakar, I stopped at my adopted family's house to greet them, and they fed me their gloriously veggie and meat filled bowl and side dishes of bread, butter and beans! Wow, It was good! I wish my phone was charged that day so I could have taken pictures, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. I'll be sure to take pictures next year. 

Thursday, September 24, 2015

The day I gained perspective..

The day I gained perspective…
Postive Notes.

I realized that my past few posts haven’t been that uplifting and positive. And, although, it isn’t all rainbows and unicorns here, I do see rainbows frequently… literally. 

Village life is great! What I said before about my “problems” at site weren’t all exactly problems. It was just a misunderstanding of how I portrayed my interactions with the other volunteers in my region and their experiences here. It just goes to show that you can’t generalize any population regardless how close in proximity, shared nationality, religion, culture or tradition. You have to experience it first hand to understand the dynamics of anything truthfully and completely. 

I am learning Pulaar with an increasing momentum! The other day a few of the elders told me that I speak my Pulaar from the heart. (There actually isn't a word for “heart” in Pulaar! So many things have a 3-5 different words to say the same thing, and so many things, that I think are very important, including health terms, don’t have names at all! They borrow words from the French language frequently, but then only a few know and understand what those words mean.) Being told that I speak from my heart is a huge compliment. I have to say,  I probably speak better and know more vocabulary that the average volunteer at my stage because I literally go weeks without speaking English, so I have to learn quick, and my new normal is Pulaar. I find myself forgetting English words or phrases when I am trying to do any work, it can be frustrating at times. Actually, I had my first dream in Pulaar the other day! It is weird for me to remember my dreams to begin with, so when I dreamt, remembered it, and realized it was in Pulaar, my mind was blown and I had to reflect what that meant for my language level. Don’t get me wrong.. I still don’t understand a lot of what a lot of people say because the verbs or so specific that it would take me more than my two years of service to truly be fluent in this language. 

Maimunna is back! My second dad’s wife that had the miscarriage finally returned to village! It is customary for the woman to stay away at a different relative’s house until she is “healed,” which takes a lot longer here than you would think. She was gone for over a month. But, she isn’t allowed to do any work, not even cook, for a year, and not any fieldwork or water pulling for around three years. So, she is afraid that her husband is going to get another wife because she can’t fulfill her duties and her kids aren’t old enough to do most of her work. And, of course, her husband shouldn’t be expected to pick up any slack because he is the man. But, yay! She is back. I finally have my bestie at site around again. She is two years older than me but has a completely different life than I do. She has four kids, is married, and is illiterate, so sometimes it is hard to find a common ground to really connect on, but we make it work. She understands me almost as well as my counterpart does, which makes conversation easy. 

My youngest of the teenage sisters went on vacation a few weeks ago, so I have been having to befriend my other two teenage sisters since Maimunna was gone. It has been hard having Tida away, but it has given me a chance to connect with the other two girls. They have been spending the evenings in my room for dinner and hangout sessions the past few weeks. But, out of the blue, my second youngest teenage sister (I say teenage, because I have a lot of younger sisters, but I don’t hang out with them because they are too young and.. annoying.) told me that she is going to her future  husband’s village for the next six months to prove to his family that she is worth her keep and is auditioning her cooking and cleaning skills for a marriage next year.  Even though her husband lives and works in Dakar and won’t even be living with her at his family’s compound. (Obviously she didn’t use that terminology but, it is exactly what she is doing.) So, I am down to one teenage sister, and her Pulaar is so fast and unclear that I can never understand what she is staying, and I am pretty sure that is a two-way street because she always has a confused look on her face when I say anything to her as well. 

My work has finally started and I am extremely busy. PECADOM +, an integrated malaria program, is in full swing since we are in the wet season, aka, malaria season. I have been attending trainings and workshops to make sure everyone involved knows what to do when they are out in the field doing their sweeps through the villages. It is a lot of work and is hard because we don’t have cell phone reception to confirm schedules so it is hit and miss with the trainings. We will be having a five day long session after Tabaski and the next vaccination sweep at the end of the month. I just finished up a baseline survey, where I interviewed every compound in my community asking upwards of fifty compound questions related to their health and health knowledge. It was a great way to understand the problems my village has under the surface and better gain perspective of what they need from me, even if they don’t realize that they need it yet. Baseline surveys are great Needs Assessments, and thankfully it is a reportable task for evaluation, monitoring and reporting purposes. I know a lot more people in my village now. I think at the beginning of this month, I might have known around 15 people’s names, now I know upwards of 50 and growing. As soon as I get everyone’s picture I can really start to learn names and faces better. 

I had my first Technical Site Visit where my supervisor came and put a stamp of approval on my upcoming projects and work in my village. We had a meeting with all of the people in my village that are important and/or are involved in my work. The discussion mainly was working out the kinks of building a Health Hut. The week preceding the meeting, I talked with the doctor at the Health Post that would be the supervisor of my Health Hut and he didn’t agree to its construction. So, he suggested that we go to all of the surrounding villages and basically start a petition for our Health Hut. We had all of the surrounding village chiefs, religious leaders and health workers come to my village to attend a meeting and get everyone’s IDs for their names, birthdates, ID numbers and signatures. (Most signatures are a doodle because most people are illiterate, so the signature part is comical on my end.) We will be taking this paper to the Regional Doctor and the man that is the “President” of the Health System in our region to get the final approval. I was afraid of the politics involved in all of this, so I was hesitant to pursue the project without talking to my supervisor. The newest Health Hut in Sare Tobo (about 5km away) is non-functioning because of a political matter, a disagreement between the village chief and the ASC, the person that runs the facility. So, I don’t want our structure to end up like that one. If I am going to contribute and have a legacy here, I want it to be a successful, respectable one. But, it looks like everything is good to go and I will be starting the grant in December to start the construction hopefully early next year. I just inquired about educational/technical training for a woman in my village to become a Matrone, a woman that delivers babies, comparable to a midwife, and for my counterpart, Hoyo, to get his training to become an ASC, and I am in the mist of recruiting a person to be a DSDOME, a person who does integrated malaria sweeps through villages. I am also starting on my hand washing station, aka "Tippy Tap," project by installing these stations at every 'bathroom' and eating spot in every compound and community gathering area to make a behavior change shift to hand washing by making hand washing something that is easy, fun and cool to do. So many deaths and illnesses could be prevented by something so simple, that we as Americans take for granted, Hand Washing. It is a huge project that will take up until December to complete because I can’t just install these stations, I need people to take ownership of the project by having causeries explaining what it is, why it is important, when they should wash their hands, what illnesses not washing their hands could cause. Soap is also an issue. Soap is “expensive” when people don’t really have any income, so I am having soap making trainings with the three women’s groups in my village to ensure that their stations have soap at all times. My village chief, so kindly told everyone that attended the meeting for the petition for the Health Hut that I would do the trainings in all of their villages too. Which, I never agreed to, but I will try to figure out how to make time for it, I guess. 

Tabaski, the biggest Muslim holiday, is tomorrow! I spent the past two days getting my hair braided with fake hair. My back will never be the same. So much pain sitting like that for that long. But, apparently it looks super attractive, although, I would be the first to disagree. The next time I get my hair braided, I don’t think I will be dong fake hair. Actually, I am pretty sure I cut some of my real hair off when I was trimming the ends of the braids. I might need a different hair style after all of this is over. It was a fun experience with the women that did my hair. We braided, drank tea, and practiced some dance moves. I have to make it a habit to hang out with more women in my village because I just don’t know their vocabulary as well. They talk way too fast and I hardly understand their sentence structure, let alone their vocabulary. I hang out with most of the village elders because they talk slower, are typically more educated and their Pulaar doesn’t have as much Wolof, French or other languages mixed in, so it is traditionally better. But, now that I know sounds and some syntax, I think it is time I push myself with the women. Wish me luck, it won’t be an easy task. 

I have made some seriously incredible friendships with some of the other volunteers. It is hard being thrown into this life and no one is truly themselves at the beginning so it is a struggle to find out who you are in this new life and who you can//want to be friends with. I am glad that I know I am not alone in my struggle and that when I have something exciting  (like seeing a Komodo dragon, which turned out to be a Monitor lizard) or something dramatic that happened (like having worms crawling under my skin) that I need to tell someone, I just need to bike out to get cell phone reception and hope that they have cell phone reception at the same time to talk about it. I have made at least three solid friendships, all very unique and special that are very precious to me. 

Next on my list of Positive Notes……. I am coming home in December!! 
I have been waiting to tell a lot of people, but it is quickly approaching so I am letting everyone know now! Yay. I am extremely excited to come home and take a shower in my parents’ new bathroom and know what it is like to feel clean again. I am excited to have to figure out how many layers of clothes I have to put on to be warm, not figure out how I can be nakeder than naked to not feel like I am fire. I am going to have my grandmas take me to get a good steak at the Malibar Inn and eat as much (good, non-rice) food as I possibly can! 

Sorry it took so long for an update, I will try to be better from now on. I am starting to get a daily/weekly routine, and I want to incorporate blog writing that routine so you all can get weekly/bi-weekly updates! 


Next Blog will be about Tabaski!! (Including Pictures with my new Komplet and my hair!)

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

The day I lost feeling in my butt...




The day I lost feeling in my butt…
The Sept-Place Experience:

Eight People Deep 
After being in Dakar for almost three weeks trying to regain my health and strength, I finally got medically cleared to go back to my site. It was bittersweet knowing I could go back. The rest of my Stage stayed (or attempted to stay) at their sites for five consecutive weeks, but that was not the case for me. I was “present” at my site for two weeks before I started to feel sick(er), and then I stayed in my hut for the third week before my “long” stay in Dakar, where I lost all the language that I learned and ate all the food I started to “forget,” needless to say, going back to my village was daunting. I bought an insane amount of food to bring back to Kolda, so much that I needed to buy a huge duffle bag to transport it. I couldn’t even carry the bag by myself it was that large/heavy. I knew that I was going to have to barter the price of my baggage on all fronts. There is typical a set price to  buy a seat in modes of transportation, but baggage is up in the air. 

Going back to Kolda from Dakar is a huge ordeal. 

I had to get up at 3:30am, leave the Peace Corps Medical Hut by 4am, and get a taxi to go to the “Garage” where people get a “sept place” to travel to certain cities throughout Senegal. To get to Kolda, we travel through The Gambia and it is necessary to leave super early in order to get to Kolda in one day AND not have to wait for HOURRRRRRSSSS at The Gambia River to get a boat to cross over to the other side. Once I got to the Dakar Garage, I had to wait until seven (7) people bought a seat in the car, including myself. (P.S. Sept is Seven in French, ahh haah!!) When I say car, think station wagon with a bench seat in the middle and an elevated bench seat in the back and a front passenger seat plus the driver;s seat, totaling eight people in a tiny, broken, barely drivable/ridable, station wagon. It is rough. It is the most uncomfortable 13+ hours one can have. My butt and legs literally went numb and/or were throbbing to the point of extreme vein popping pain. I’ve decided that the WORST seat to buy is the middle bench, middle seat. The second worst seat is back bench middle. Both middle spots have the hump in the ground where the people have to straddle either side and/or raise their feet/legs to the level of the hump putting even more pain on the lower back.

Once we get to The Gambia, because I am an American/Non-Senegalese, I have to get out a total of four times to get my passport stamped at each location—exiting Senegal, entering The Gambia, exiting The Gambia, and reentering Senegal. Once we arrived at The Gambia border, we have to buy a ticket to get on a ferry boat to cross the river, that costs 200 CFA. Depending on the time of day and the amount of trucks/buses/cars arrived before you, you can wait a very long time (I’ve heard people waiting over eight (8) before!), but we only waited two hours. It was pretty interesting because the Pulaar people heard their cattle and one ferry had pretty much was filled with all cattle to cross the river. (You can bet that I was the “tourist” taking the pictures!!) 
Ferry at the Gambia River
After getting out of The Gambia it only takes about another three hours until reaching the Kolda Garage. It is so, so hot right now that by the end of the ride it is a putrid smell of body odor. (Just FYI, my solar radio reads upwards of 130 degrees, plus humidity on some days) Since it was almost dark upon my arrival, I had to stay at the Regional House one more night and return to my village the following morning. Because I live in the “Bush” a taxi from Kolda to my village costs 5,000 CFA (it is only about 10-12 Km drive) whereas the sept-place from Dakar to Kolda costs about 9,500 CFA (which is 672 Km, but in actuality probably longer because of the windy roads). That doesn’t seem quite right, does it? Oh well… 

I asked a cab to take me to my site, he said he would so I loaded my stuff up and we were on our way. The issue was, he didn’t know my village, and I had only driven there during the day time once and in the night time once; plus, I don’t have the greatest directional sense in new places with no road names and the only landmarks are sand, trees and huts (that ALL LOOK THE SAME!!), so I also didn’t know exactly where to turn off to get to my village. I knew that I had to turn left into a smaller village, but I forgot the name and I wasn’t paying attention to all the recognizable landmarks that I told him to turn into a village, I thought could be the through village… it wasn’t. It was, however, another village I knew and I knew that the next village was the through village. What I didn’t know was that Sare Samba had a back road that took us to Santancoy and not to the road we previously left, so I told him to turn down the wrong road. Once I noticed that there was no way back out to the other main road, I tried to figure out how to tell him that he had to turn around. Finally, we reached another village, the village preceding Santancoy, where my dad’s family lives, and they told my driver to turn around. Once we got back to Sare Samba, one of the men there ran out to the taxi and told my driver how to get to my village. My driver was M.A.D. at me, but I honestly don’t think he should have agreed to the trip if he didn’t know how to get to my village himself. He just wanted the money. But, once I arrived at my village, I had a great reunion with my kitten, counterpart, and my family. I am, however, a big gossip piece about how I didn’t know how to get home and I got my driver lost… oh well, there could be worse things that people said about me. 

Now, I am trying to reintegrate into my community and figure out how to speak Pulaar again,  but I am currently in Kolda for my “language seminar” and will be posting a few more blogs within the next few days. I go back to my site on July 5th.