Community Based Training

I just returned from my second Community Based Training (CBT) site visit/stay and I am thankful that I didn’t write a blog post focusing on my first CBT stay. My emotions were heightened due to numerous factors and I would have portrayed my new family unjustly. But, since staying another two weeks at CBT the second time around, my feelings were altered significantly and now I can give you an open-minded, culturally sensitive, explanation of my emotional roller coaster over the past few weeks. But don’t fret, I am going to tell you exactly how I felt and what happened the first CBT stay, but this way I don’t leave you with sour feelings because I can now elaborate on my second stay and my turning point. There is now light at the end of the tunnel. 

What is Community Based Training? 

Peace Corps Senegal started Community Based Training (CBT) in 2008 to integrate volunteers with a host-country family before installing at their permanent sites. CBT is a laboratory and we, volunteers, are the experimental mice squirming to figure out how to get out of the maze and get the prize cheese. The main idea of this arrangement is to allow the volunteers to make mistakes, cultural faux-pas and observe and learn from them so that when the volunteers are at their permanent site, they know what to expect (kind of), know what to do (kind of) and what not to (at least a lot of things..) in their village. It is also great language training (Or so I am told.. We’ll get to that in a later blog post though) to be fully immersed into a family that speaks the language you are learning when the communities here speak multiple languages, and they switch between them so seamlessly that a novice doesn’t know what language is being spoken at any given moment. The families are also trained on American culture and what we will do that may seem funny or unsocial to them but completely normal for us. They are also informed on ideologies and practices that we do in the United States that are completely unacceptable and rude here in in Senegal. Their training is pivotal to our learning process so that when we do make these types of “mistakes” they can understand our struggle and help us adjust to our new norms. It is a phenomenal idea and practice to prepare volunteers for their next two years of service. 

Before I jump into my CBT family, let me preface my emotional roller coaster by explaining the dynamic of my American family in the United States….

I have a small immediate family and I do not have a lot of extended family. I have one brother. One. He is 21 months older than I and we do our own things. We don’t spend time together nor do either of us (when we were living at our parents’ house) spend much time at the house. So, to sum my house hold dynamic up: My dad is never home and works hard, long hours and never thinks twice about lending a helping hand to anyone in need or just out of the kindness of his heart to make someone’s day better/easier (This aspect comes in culturally, not so much with family dynamic). My mom works long, hard hours and is so busy that we used to schedule days to meet up weeks in advance because of our conflicting schedules. My brother also a hard worker (hmm… is there a pattern here?) is also never at home. Ergo, at any given time of the day I could go to my parents’ house and it would be completely empty (except for the dogs and my mom’s cat Paige) FOR HOURS so there was peace and quiet. Oh, and on that regard, we live in a rural area where there are no “close” neighbors. 

Community Based Training #1, Seven Days:

*Bold print is a part of my Senegalese Culture 101. 

We learned what language we were assigned to on a Saturday, we had a total of five language hours before leaving for our CBT stays not even two full days later on a Monday. We could hardly say a complete greeting, so we most definitely could not understand most, if any at all, of what our family was saying nor could we express our needs or concerns to our new family. So, I was stressed/concerned/anxious/excited/curious/sad/happy/mad/glad… any emotion out there, I was feeling it the night before leaving. When we piled in the cars that next morning with our language group and our language cross-cultural facilitator (LCF) to be literally DROPPED off at our new homes, I was surprisingly calm as some of the other volunteers were dropped off before me. Until it was my tern. When the car stopped and my LCF said that this (as he pointed to the circus of people outside of teal doors) is my family, I was in a complete daze and had no idea what was going on around me. I was trying to make sure I got my bag, my water filter, my sheets and bug net bag, my book bag, my fruit gift for the family and my hygiene gift for my family. Trying to account for that many things while being swarmed by my new family as my LCF, Samba, points to a woman and says that she is my mom, and then being taken in for a bearhug, was overwhelming for me to say the least. As soon as I got all my bags out of/off the car, the car vanished and I was “alone” (although, “alone” seems ironic to me considering the mass of my new family). 

Coming from a family with one mom, one dad and one sibling, most “typical” American families seem large to me. So, unknowingly joining a family with an unknown number of members, whom all were telling me their names and emphasizing their last names at the same time as I was walking through the gate was a blur. Let me also state the fact that I have a hard time, to this day, remembering and pronouncing Senegalese names that I see and hear every day at the training center. So, in the first moments, minutes, hours settling into my new home I remember almost nothing of what happened. I remember getting out of the car, my mom hugging me, looking around and seeing soooooooo many kids and a handful of adults. I remember them giving me a key and then taking me to my room, dropping my stuff on the ground, getting my water filter and going over to the neighbors (?? I think they are actually somehow related to me though?? To this day, three weeks with my family I am still very confused on who is who and how are they related to me) and filling up my water filter and a bucket of water from their tap. I remember faces speaking to me, but I have no idea what was said. If they were telling me their names, for all I knew they were just talking about my arrival, except I kept hearing the same word emphasized, Balde. (Bald-aye) 

Pretty much as soon as I entered the compound they gave me my Senegalese name: Fatu Mata Balde. I am now a Balde. After an hour of so of being in pure shock, my sister, Hady, came over and drew a human body with all the basic body parts to teach me their Fulakunda names. At this point I realized that she knew some English. My saving grace! So, then, after the bajillionth time of people telling me their names and me having no idea what they were talking about, Hady helped me do a family tree. 

So here is my family lowdown (or at least what I knew during the first CBT):

My dad (Baaba), Deemba Balde has three wives (Men can take up to four wives in Islam). My mom (Neene), Koumba Sadi is his first wife and the life generator of most of my compound. She had…. (..and let me be honest, I blanked and had to go get that chart I was talking about to make sure I get this right..) 6 children. Before I continue with my family tree, I need to inform you that in additional to the men potentially having up to four wives, their sons continue to live in the same compound even after taking a wife and starting a family of their own. The daughters stay at their families home/compound until/if they get married and then they move in with their husband’s family. My oldest brother, Ousmaan Balde is married to Miirram Jallo (The women keep their last names and do not take the last name of their husbands, but their kids get the last name of their father) and they have four children, Ablaye, Konee, Papa and Allu (Ok, I need to also say that I do not know how to spell their names, so it is a phonetic spelling that I am doing here. Maybe once I am here longer and I get a better grasp on spellings, I will correct them…. maybe). My second oldest sibling is Booba Balde and he married Alima Sow. They have two children (both girls) Awa and Jarra. My next oldest sibling is Serr Balde and he married Fatu Diaf (who is my “Tokora” or namesake. It is a great honor to get a namesake and senegalese culture takes it very seriously. I will go into how wonderful Fatu is later in my second CBT post.) They just have one child, FatuMata Balde. My next sibling is Muusa Balde and he married Martel (I don’t know her last name) and they have two children, Koumba and Daafa. Then there is Hady Balde who is 20, still in school and not married yet, and my last sister from my mom, Fatu Balde. My second mom, Hady Sarrd has two children living at our compound and my third mom, Binta Jarmonka does not have any children. (At least from my dad, but I will elaborate on the expansion of my family knowledge later when I am discussing my second CBT site.) 

After understanding why Balde was emphasized along with the other last names, I tried to listen for these words/names and place who was answering to what name to figure out who is who. Actually, I am still doing that, and I will probably still be doing that until the end of my last CBT stay because at this point, I don’t want t be like, “Hey, soooo… I know we talk every day and we are friends, but what is your name again? And exactly how are you related to me??” In Pulaar obviously, but still, I don’t want to ask because that seems rude to me. 

But let’s get back to the progression of events. After a few hours of just being dumbfounded while sitting in a chair in the African heat, I had to go to my LCF’s host family’s compound that I had NO IDEA where it was because I was dropped off before he showed the rest of my group the house. So, I had to ask in my vast knowledge of Pulaar (hah!) where my LCF’s house was and trust a young boy, to lead me to the right compound. It was nerve racking and scary as hell! So, after I followed my nephew to a compound I got the understanding that my LCF was not there. Then, we just walked somewhere else, and when I turned the corner of a sandy street I saw another white person, (Toubab (white/foreigner), this concept will most defiantly be a blog post later on) Abigail, from the other Fulakunda group, in the next district over, who was also trusting one of her small family members to guide her to the right compound. We locked eyes and embraced for a hug that I will remember for a verrrrrry long time. At that moment, I felt a bit more secure. Soon enough our kids led us to Raquel’s (another girl in my LCF language group) compound and we all waited for our LCF to return. It turned out that Abigail’s family member took her to the wrong place, but both groups eventually met up together and everything was fine. Although it felt like that instance lasted a long time, it was only about five minutes, but in those five minutes, I grew and exponential amount. 

After everyone arrived in the same place, we went to each volunteer’s host family’s compound and introduced ourselves and then returned to our respective houses for dinner and met up again the next morning for class. I am not going to elaborate on every detail of the first week of CBT because it a repeating cycle of waking up, eating, going to class, returning home for lunch, going back to class, returning home for dinner, going to bed and repeat. Yes, there were a lot of personal breakdowns every day, but I made it through it. I wasn’t used to a big family, especially one with sooooooo many kids. Senegal is not a quiet country, and my compound is no exception. Even my earplugs can’t keep out the ruckus while I am trying to study or trying to sleep while everyone else is still up. I wanted to cry so many times because I felt so out of place, alone despite my inability to every actually be “alone” and just utterly defeated by the language barrier. Pulaar is hard, Fulakunda is a very hard dialect of Pulaar and it isn’t something that one can learn quickly. Everything here is “slowly, slowly” or in Pulaar, “seeda, seeda”

I was relieved when our week was up and we returned to the training center. Although I was relieved, I also was envious of other volunteers that talked about loving their CBT site and missing their families already. We literally were gone for 10 minutes when people were saying these things. I couldn't fathom their relationships because my week was so overwhelming that I didn’t really make those super close ties with my family. 

Community Based Training #2, Twelve Days: 

We spent less than three days back in Thies at the center (jammed pack full of classes and demonstrations) before we went back to our CBT sites, and I was dreading going back. But, I loaded up my stuff in the land rover and was dropped off once again. But this time was different. Even though nothing changed from the time I left from the time I came back with my family and I, something changed in my head and something clicked. I actually felt at home going through my compound’s gate. I greeted my family that was there and I quickly started my routine of getting water, unpacking and settling in. But, this time I think I tried more and put myself out there in ways that I was previously holding back. I found myself not hiding in my room being “anti-social” because I was studying alone not with other people like I did the time before, but in my Neene’s room with my sister Hady. It was nice symmetry because we were together, but studying our own separate things. I found myself seeking out to bond with more children in my compound than the previous time where I only wanted to hold Memunna (the cutest, chunkiest baby ever! see my tumblr for pictures!). I was learning more language and practicing with my family and learning a routine of what to say and what will be said at certain times of the day. I started to feel like I belonged there. Then, a few days into CBT we had an assignment to do an elaborated family tree of our Senegalese family to figure out who they are, how old they are, what their occupation is, etc., and I recruited Hady to help me. This assignment was a true trigger to my family knowledge because I learned so much about my family, and was able to ask questions about people I knew that they live in my compound but wasn’t sure how they fit in because they were not on my family tree chart from my first stay. (Side Note: Hady did all this even though she was sick and hadn’t gone to school in several days, she still made time to help me with my work. I can’t express how thankful I am for her.) Apparently some of my brothers don’t actually live in my compound and they work in Dakar and only come home on the weekends, my third mom doesn’t even live in our compound and she was actually married before but was widowed and has kids by her husband. The woman who I thought was my third mom, I finally figured out that she is actually my brother’s wife. I know this might seem strange that I could think a woman that could be my father’s wife was actually my brother’s wife, but in Senegal there can be a huge age gaps between spouses. Plus, she ate with my dad, my first mom, my second mom, me and Hady at our lunch bowl. I thought it was a good assumption. Nope, not the case. I also found out that Memunna’s mom, Naaffii, who was not on my family tree chart either, is actually my oldest brother’s wife’s sister that was divorced by her husband so she moved into my compound with her two daughters. Now, that is an interesting concept to me. I guess in Senegalese culture one cannot turn away people to come live in their houses because if something would happen to them, or their family, maybe they would have to do the same thing with that person or someone else. At last, I have around 80% of my family figured out. 

I want to jump to the true turning point of my second CBT stay: My Birthday. One of my brothers is a tailor and he is excellent. I lust over all of the females’ clothing in my family because he does such an amazing job. Well, the last day of my CBT #1, Hady took me to a market to buy some fabric and Muusa took my measurements to do his magic. I never told him what I wanted, and I actually had plans for the fabric and was going to tell him when I returned, but he had already made a complet (a skirt, shirt and headpiece) and a dress for me. Hady took note of my favorite dress, Memunna’s sister, Margette’s dress that I LOVE and he copied the top details from that to my complet. When Hady brought the finished clothes into my room, I was stunned because I never said what I wanted, but so happy because I knew that my family listened and paid attention to what I said, and what I like because of the outfits highlighted the details that sparked my interest. I was truly touched. It just so happened to be the night before my birthday when I got the garb, so I said that I was going to wear my complet for my birthday the next day. Once the news was out that it was my birthday, everyone was coming in to talk to me about my clothes and birthday. When I came back from my morning class the next afternoon, I was talking with Hady, and she said something about a party and she said something about cake, so I got kind of excited that they were throwing me a birthday party. LK and Raquel came over to spend the afternoon at my house to look at clothes catalogs to pick out designs for my brother to tailor fabric for us. Hady said we were having a big dinner for my birthday and I invited them to stay for dinner. Well, all of the sudden speakers were being installed and all of these kids brought in mats and then our courtyard filled up with random people from the neighborhood. In Senegal, they do traveling Islam teachings in different compounds and apparently my birthday night was the night it was at my dad’s house. So, I was taken back and assumed there was a language barrier issue, and that the party wasn't a party for me, but the party was the teachings. Still, something about cake was mentioned, so there was still hope! Until, towards the end of the gathering my family gave out these doughnut type things to the attendees, so I assumed that those yummy treats were the before mentioned cake. Oh well, at least there was a big dinner for me, right? Let me just say that we normally have rice and fish every day for lunch and dinner. And, I do not eat the fish from here, so I just eat rice every day. I told my family that I like salads, vegetables, french fries and chicken in previous conversations, and once again illustrating that they listen and internalize what I say, my Tokora, Fatu, made me (with the help of a lot of other family members) an amazing meal with chicken (which is a big deal to have chicken. It is very expensive and you have to kill the chicken that day and prepare the bird for cooking i.e. defeather it). That gesture alone was so heartfelt it almost made me cry. Fatu is nurse and works long hours so I don’t get to spend much time with her even though I am her namesake. But she takes so much accountability and care for me despite it all. After eating our meal, everyone tells me that I have to stay in my brother’s room until they are ready for me to come out, which by this time it was close to 10pm, which is my bedtime in Senegal. (I’ve turned into an old person with a bedtime, for sure!) Finally they were ready for me to come out, and my whole family was lined up on two sides of a table with a white tablecloth and a birthday cake that said, “Happy Birthday Jenn Lowe.” They were singing Happy Birthday in English, then they sang it in French, then again in Pulaar. I was really taken back by these gestures that I was tearing up on the verge of crying like a baby. I felt so loved and at home with my family that I couldn’t imagine not living there with them. They even got a firecracker candle, and I almost made the mistake of trying to blow it out instead of waiting for it to finish crackling. Once the firework burnt out, it was time to cut the cake, eat, dance and have a fabulous time. At least for 20 minutes before I passed out from exhaustion. I had an amazing 27th birthday and I wouldn’t change one part of it, not even the language barrier confusion that ended up not being a barrier at all. 

I am trying not to make this post any longer than it already is, but I do want to mention one more thing that happened at the end of my second CBT that made me secure in Peace Corps’ responsibility and action towards my health and another way my host family is so caring. 

I actually got (and currently am still) sick during the last week of my CBT. A lot of my stage was getting sick as well. I only called the Peace Corps Medical Officer (PCMO) because on top of having a wretched sore throat, chronic borderline migraine, sinus infection, ear infection, and being constipated for almost a month with a very tender abdomen, I also had horrific pressure on both sides of my nose/sinus and when I blew my nose, I had a constant blood flow. I was trying to endure all of the other issues without calling PCMO or having to go to Dakar, but once my nose was leaking blood for a day and a half, I got all of these ideas in my head that I ruptured my sinuses or my brain was bleeding or somehow I got cerebral malaria even though I only had a low grade fever. (Shelbie, don’t freak out… I am OK.) Anyway, PC sent a car for me and I was taken to the Sick Bay in Dakar. The Sick Bay is the place that PCTs and PCVs go when they are too sick to stay at their site, but not sick enough to be hospitalized. While I was in Dakar my family kept calling me (and I have a hard enough time trying to understand them in person, it was almost impossible talking over the phone), and I told them that I was getting better and that I was hopefully returning to Thies Monday morning. Even though they knew that I couldn’t really understand them or tell them what they wanted to know, they called me several times to check in and make sure I was OK. If that isn’t a family, I am not sure what is. I haven’t solved any of my other ailments besides the bleeding issue, which I am still not 100% sure what caused it, but I am back at the training center and plan to go to my Field Orientation Training (FOT) after we find out our site placements. I hope that I get better before then, but I am thankful for PC and all of their medical treatment options. If anyone was concerned about my health while serving in Senegal, I can assure you that you don’t have to be because if I need something, I just have to ask and PC will do whatever they can to make it happen. Volunteers’ health is most defiantly their priority.

checkout my tumblr for pictures!!
jloweinsenegal.tumblr.com 

*Since this blog post was so long, I will talk about my faux-pas in another post, most likely not the next one though because I will be talking about finally finding out my permanent site and going to visit that region of Senegal and my site itself!! I am very excited. I find out tomorrow evening and will be leaving for the South of the country (most likely Kolda region) the following day. Since it takes so long to get there, travel time is going to eat up the majority of the trip, but I will have one complete night spending in my future home for the next two years. Stay Tuned!! 

** Side Note, I finally bought a SIM card and starting tomorrow April 1st, I will have a data plan so I wont be MIA for weeks/months at a time. If you have an iPhone, you can iMessage my email, jennlowe321@gmail.com and it will be like we are texting, you can message me on skype, whatsapp, viber, or better yet, facebook message me because facebook doesn’t use up any of my data on this plan! (for any future Senegal PCVs that are reading this, the provider I am using is Orange, but there are a lot of different companies. And, technically,  you should chose your provider after you know what your site is so you know which provider gets the best reception/coverage in your region. You can go to their website to see all of the plan options. I have a 2GB plan for 5,000 CFA a month. If you have any additional questions about internet options while in village or cell phone data, etc., shoot me an email and I will try to help you out!) 

***I am also thankful for everyone that has written me letters and sent me packages. I am working on return letters and thank you notes for everyone that sends me anything. It feels nice to get mail at the center and feel the support from my friends and family back home. 

****Lissa, I love you endlessly. I love the milestone box idea and I hope you keep them up. I get to open my first one, my ONE MONTH in country, TOMORROW!!! YEAAAA!!! 

Training Center Life

Training Center Life:
After arriving to Senegal, we have been in Thiès at the Peace Corps Training Center, training. Go figure, right? Our days are filled from the second we wake up until the moment we go to bed. Every day we have breakfast starting at 0700, and our first class session starting at 0815. The class sessions are 1-2 hours long, but usually after 4 hours we have go to the “Pause Cafe” to get some tea and/or bread. Rough life, I know. I won’t bore you all with the details of each class, but we are broken down between program (Health or CED) and we do technical training where we go over information that we need to know in order to be a successful volunteer in our sector and ideally a cross-sector volunteer. We normally have dinner around 1945 and are free to study, hang out, blog, go to “church” (Church will be covered later in the blog), or whatever we want.    The sessions cover in-depth statistics, facts, and ways that volunteers can help promote the Peace Corps initiatives. For health, our three main goals are malaria prevention, promoting proper and sustainable nutrition and fighting malnourishment, and clean water and proper hygiene techniques. (trust me, they go into way more depth than that simple statement. PC is very ambitious and highly motivated to promote capacity building and generate quantifiable  outcomes.) We have combined sector classes for safety and security and medical. All of which we will have a final exam that we have to pass with a 80% or higher in order to swear-in and become a Peace Corps Volunteer. For the first full week we didn’t do any language training. We had our interviews a few days after arriving to determine our language and technical skills and our medical needs. After the interviews, we were assigned a language and we started learning the language 2 days before going to our Community Based Training (CBT) site where we are dropped off with a host family speaking almost no language. (Literally, 5 hours of language class) My language is………. (I feel like I should make you all wait a hot second because I had to wait a whole week to know)………….. Fulakunda!  Fulakunda is spoken in the South, mainly in the Kolda region. It is a dialect of Pulaar, which is what I wanted! I am very excited about the language and I can’t wait until I can actually carry out a conversation in the local language. There are 7 other PCTs that are also learning the same language, and we are a realllllllly great, diverse group.

Room & Board:

    We live in rooms at the center with other roommates, some people are super lucky and only have one roommate, I have 6 other roommates, so we are quite crammed. There are only 4 armoires, so we have to share all of our space and can never really feel “settled.” The center has two main classrooms, the disco hut where everyone gathers to hang out and occasionally have a class session, several other hut classrooms, a lounge area and a big dining area. There are several other buildings for Administration, but we as PCT/PCVs don’t congregate there. How we live and interact with one another simulates a summer camp atmosphere. It is very surreal most of the time. When we are in the center we are very much in a bubble. It doesn't feel like we are in Africa... besides the heat.

    For breakfast we just have bread with beans or jam or peanut butter and tea or “coffee.” For lunch we eat the traditional Senegalese way were you take your shoes off and sit on the ground (on a mat) with 4-5 other people and eat out of a big bowl. There is defiantly a technique to eat this way. One has to eat with ONLY their right hand, unless picking out bones from the bowl then one can use their left hand. We use spoons, but typically people just use their hands. Hence, one of the educational behavior changes PC promotes is hand washing with soap to help mitigate the spread of diseases. Also, when eating around the bowl, you have to be conscious and only eat what is in your area and not impede on someone else’s area. If there is only one carrot in the bowl, make sure you cut a little off, give some to everyone at the bowl and put the rest in the middle. Oh, and what is in the middle is up for grabs. Eating here is very much a team sport. If you are eating meat, it is hard to get the meat off the bones with just one hand (or spoon) so other people at the bowl have to hold the bone so that the meat can be detached. It’s actually kind of nice. I’m not a big hand eater, but I am sure that will change as I install later in my service. The training center is really good about giving us variety of foods with couscous, rice, millet, complemented with different sauces, veggies and all kinds of meat. It is very good! For dinner, we get to get reacquainted with our American roots and eat things like french fries and salad. Overall, food at the center has gone way beyond my expectations!

Thiès:

    So, we weren’t allowed to leave the training center for 4 days, but it felt like an eternity. Once we were allowed to leave and tour the city we were also allowed to go to “church,” which is the bar close the training center. Since it is culturally inappropriate to drink because Senegalese culture is so intricately intwined with Islam, we call it going to Church. I mean, wine is served during communion, so it is very fitting, right?!
    Thiès itself is the second largest city in Senegal and it is booming! Most of my money has been spent on fabric to be tailored into some traditional Senegalese garb, buckets for showering and/or laundry, and get this.. ICE CREAM! There is this (new-ish) place that has AH-MAZE-ING flavors. My go to is a double scoop bowl, one scoop Kinder (I can’t even describe the mouthwatering chocolate and some other interesting hints of other flavors amazingness that is Kinder. YUMMMM!) and one scoop vanilla. But, a close runner up is a chocolate and strawberry duo.
    The markets here actually reminded me a mixture of Bolivian and Indian street shops. It is all sorts of chaos, but invigorating. I love that you can speak English, Arabic, Wolof, Pulaar and French all within 30 seconds. It is very common for the people to know 5+ languages here. What a different concept than what we are used to in America. It really motivates me to learn more and try to integrate as much as possible.

Senegalese Culture 101:

    Here are the three main (in my mind) to know what is culturally expected/appropriate:

1. Taranga! Taranga means hospitality. Senegal is allllll about being a good host and sharing. Literally, if someone is drinking something walking down the street, and doesn't offer it to people (even a stranger) it is considered rude. If anyone eats or drinks anything in front of anyone else, it is expected that they share. Lesson Learned: eat in your room quickly if you want to be selfish and eat an entire package of Biskrem.

2. Left Hand is a NO-NO! Because of the lack of plumbing and the way the latrines are set up, one washes her/himself with her/his left hand when s/he does … bathroom things. Yea..  Also, on that note, anything that is “bad” is done with the left hand. You can pick your nose with your left hand, cough in you left hand, etc. But, you have to shake hands, eat, take/give things with your RIGHT hand.  I didn’t think I was going to have an issue with only using my right hand because I am right handed, but I make left hand faux pas All. The. Time. The struggle is real. (Next blog I will talk about a few of my oopsies with my left hand..)

3. Greetings! You have to greet EVERYONE! And not just, Hey, what’s up, and keep walking, you have to ask: how they are doing, if they slept well, if they are in peace, how their family is, if they are in peace, how their wife/husband/children are doing, and so much more, just not to come off rude and to be respected in the community. Ergo, a short distance walk can take a significant amount of time if there are a lot of people on the street/out in front of their compounds.
   

Ok, My next blog will feature (and hopefully get me up-to-date with where I am during my journey) my Community Based Training (CBT) at my host family site and how I had my first O.M.G can I really do this!?! moment… ok, it was more like for 2 days. I will also tell a few funny stories. Stay Tuned!

Staging

I’m sorry that it took so long to post my first blog in-country. I’ve either been traveling from Ohio to Washington, DC for the Staging event, Staging Meetings in DC, flying to Senegal, driving from Dakar to Thiès (sounds like “chess”), which is about an hour and a half drive, or being overwhelmed with information during the first few days of training at the TTC (Thiès Training Center). It’s been exhausting, but I am alive and well!

Staging:

Staging’s registration started at noon on Friday, February 27, 2015 and we started our sessions around 2pm. We had a pre-session quiz that tested us on Peace Corps’ Goals and Expectations. And, since I did my invitee lessons on those topics back in September, I most defiantly struggled. After we signed our names on a few forms, we officially made the transition from Peace Corps Invitee to Peace Corps Trainee.

The staging event was split into two sections because we are a large group of 63 volunteers (Health (HE) and Community Economic Development (CED) sectors), and since my last name is Lowe, I was with group two with the rest of the second half of the alphabet.

The meetings were a lot of ice-breakers and group “creative” work to learn about each other and   re-learn the Goals (Mission) and the Core Expectations. We counted off from one to six (?) and formed new groups each exercise, except I was in group one EVERY time. If any of you know me, I am not a skit person, and we had to do a skit in one of the workshops. Yeaaaa. I survived, I guess, but I am sure no one is questioning why I didn't pursue an acting career.

We took a Picture after the meetings concluded and then formed smaller groups that had similar food interests for “our last meal in the States.” I pretty much ate everywhere and everything in the last few months leading up to leaving for PC, so I didn’t have any true preference. My group chose Mexican food, and we went in search of a good place in walking distance from the hotel. But, because it was a Friday, the places were packed and we ended up going to Qdoba and then hitting up McDonalds for a Shamrock Shake. Quintessential American, eh? My friend Lissa, a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (RPCV) in Benin, and one of my best and longest friendships lives in DC, so she met up with my group and she and I hung out in my room with while I was repacking (for the 1889028437430th time) my bags. I love her.

Side Note: If anyone wants to read her blog from her time in PC Benin the website is, lissainbenin.blogspot.com, and she is an amazing writer. No joke, some of her posts will literally make you laugh out loud.

The next day we had the morning to check out of the hotel and get to the airport. But, since the two groups were isolated from each other throughout staging  (except in passing and after the meetings), I had no idea who anyone was in group one, except for a few people I talked to before we met for staging. I actually assumed a girl next to me in the post-security line at the airport was "one of us" and started talking about PC stuff, and she definitely waited too long to tell me that I was talking gibberish to her because she was not in Peace Corps, hah!. Oh well, c'est la vie.

I cannot express enough how much I HATE traveling with a lot of luggage, especially a lot of HEAVY luggage. It. Is. The. Worst. I was really nervous about my bags being overweight because two days before my departure my mom and dad came over to see what I got myself into, and they thought it would be better if I consolidated my bags from two rolling suitcases to just one and fit everything else in my hiking back pack. That meant that I could check that bag and then pack another backpack with all my heavy school supplies and electronics. Ugh, that bag was so  heavy that my back still hurts from carrying it around. My bags were all maxed out at 50.0 lbs and 49.8 lbs (impressive, right?), so I had no other choice unless I wanted to eliminate something else. And, after consolidating and removing so many items, I didn't want to eliminate anymore. If I had to do it over…. I wouldn't have brought all my notebooks and at least freed up that amount of weight. But then again, I am only four days into training classes and we won’t even start our language classes until this weekend. I would like to say that I grew a lot during that process, but I am already compiling a list for care package contents, so I know at this point I would suffer all over again to have what I brought.

Peace Corps’ Mission:

1. To help the people of interested countries in meeting their need of trained men and women
2. To help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served
3. To help promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of the Americans

*I will be striving to make this blog a portal for goal three. I hope you continue this journey with me and follow my blog as a means to keep in touch and up to date with me and my work/projects, as well as using these posts as a learning experience about the Senegalese culture.
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Core Expectations for Peace Corps Volunteers:

1. Prepare your personal and professional life to make a commitment to serve abroad for a full term of 27 months
2.Commit to improving the quality of life of the people with whom you live and work and, in doing so, share your skills, adapt them, and learn new skills as needed
3. Serve where the Peace Corps asks you to go, under conditions of hardship, if necessary, and with the flexibility needed for effective service
4. Recognize that you're successful and sustainable development work is based on the local trust and confidence you build by living in, and respectfully integrating yourself into, your host community and culture
5. Recognize that you are responsible 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for your personal conduct and professional performance
6. Engage with host country partners in a spirit of cooperation, mutual learning, and respect
7. Work within the rules and regulations of the Peace Corps and the local and national laws of the country where you serve
8. Exercise judgment and personal responsibility to protect your health, safety, and well-being and that of others
9. Recognize that you will be perceived, in your host country and community, as a representative of the people, cultures, values, and traditions of the United States of America
10. Represent responsibly the people, cultures, values, and traditions of your host country and community to people in the United States both during and following your service

*I will also be referring back to these expectations after I install into my permanent site to illustrate one volunteer’s experience with meeting these expectations.

Next Post will be about the Training Center, Senegalese Culture 101, and an update on what language I am assigned!

PS- check out jloweinsenegal.tumblr.com for more photos!