So finally I start to get a grip on French. I need to learn a lottttttt (most of it) of vocabulary and as every evaluation at the training center told me, I need to study those irregular verbs. One day…. So, anyways, I was just starting to pass as a sort of, kind of French speaker. Well well well, enter: Louga. People do not love speaking French here. Certainly not. In Thies, one does not need to learn wolof to be an effective volunteer. In Louga, yeeeeeeea. To buy just about anything, I need to speak Wolof. So I started Wolof tutoring yesterday. I have another class in an hour. Another thing to note: a lot of people here do not even speak French. Which means they did not go to much school, if any. Wolof is supposedly so much easier than French so that is good…because Francais is not easy.
So…Louga. I live with twenty-five people and about fifteen goats. Wolof is the language of the house…a few speak French…but don’t like to, really. My host mother and I get by on gestures. I should mention there are 3 wives here and no husband. He passed away. The noises outside of my window are ones of many clinking pans, sheep of all ages (babies are higher-pitched sounding) and crying babies. Oh, the crying babies. Oh the sheep! There is like 15 children under the age of 15 here. They are quite adorable, though I know hardly any of their names. Oh yea, and me? I am Ndaye Touti Sekk. “Ndaye Touti, Ndaye Touti”. Already I am a celebrity in town. I will work my way up to Demba’s status soon. I mean, we are the only white people in this city of about two hundred thousand people. “team toubab!”
Demba is Jeremiah, the other Peace Corps volunteer in Louga. He has been here for 6 months as an urban agriculture volunteer. Fortunately we get along mighty well. And the 3rd musketeer of Team Louga hails from a village about 45 minutes west, Adrian AKA Adama.
I lucked the heck out with these guys being my neighbors. Not all Peace Corps volunteers are totally sweet, like I dreamingly envisioned. Nonetheless, these guys are my “paht-nahs”. We are having a family Thanksgiving together tomorrow. And, as you should know, Thanksgiving Eve is the second biggest bar night of the year in America, so of course we are hitting up the town discotheque “club millionaire” for some late night dancing tonight. Jeremiah and I did all of the Thanksgiving shopping today because a night in Senegal does not end until 5 am at the earliest. And the market pickings are best at 9 am. So here is what we will “mange”(eat): fried chicken (And honey mustard dipping sauce!…this was key for the guys), mac and cheese, garlic mashed potatoes, cheesy garlic bread, salad with tomato and green pepper, and a box of wine each. These aren’t franzia sized boxes. Yea turkey is just too expensive and yea, you buy them alive, too. J and I saw two turkeys tied together today on the side of the road and agreed that was sweet to SEE two turkeys the day BEFORE thanksgiving..because turkeys are rare here. You know what else you don’t eat in Louga? Pork. I’m rolling deep in Muslims here. Deeeeep.
I would also like to note there is fruit soaking in a party punch for tonight. We decided to be idealists for our Thanksgiving fete. Big ballers or “petron”, if you will.
Apparantly this club is just like on you find in New Orleans, says Adrian, so I am quite excited. And one fact of Senegalese bars is I am guaranteed an approximate 3:10 ratio of women : men. Sweet!!!!!!!!!!!! So what I say is, “am nah jeker”—I have a husband. No problem, I really do enjoy Senegalese dancing, so should be great. And how much did I luck out that team Louga enjoys dancing? I did luck out.
A note on dancing here. Its great!!!!!!!!!!!! It is really fun. Our stage (the people I trained with in thies) were big on the dancing. And about 4 of the guy volunteers told me on different occasions that they never loved dancing until they came to Senegal, where they feel so free! So freeeeeeeeeeeeee….. to dance! Like seriously though. So I thought that was cute. Yea, they do look ridiculous, but im just happy they are letting go of inhibitions. ☺
So: about Louga. Right, I am here to work, not celebrate thanksgiving every day! But yea, it is going well. Why not, ya know? I am in a city, alhumdilliyah. (thanks be to god).
So, I have been trying to meet people, which really takes no effort because everyone notices you. Everyone. Did I mention I am the only white woman in Louga? Cool. I said to jeremiah yesterday, “I do not feel sorry for minorities in America” and maaaan I stick by that. People are not used to diversity here. And they test you. They are not kind, but supposedly it happens to everyone here and it is all in good nature. So I am waiting for my wolof to improve before I do a lot of heavy networking. However, I have some good people to start chatting with about ideas of work.
The first 3 months are for community integration so I have time. A young man already approached me about coming to English club meetings and talking with them/and or supervising at the centre culturelle. And as more people began to ask about me teaching them English, and the same thing happening to J, we decided yesterday we would like to start an English club in town together for the young folk. He does not speak any French and I essentially do not speak any wolof, so together we are a dynamite team.
My counterparts are slow to getting back to my texts and calls and taking me around to meeting people at certain institutions, but I am going to roll Senegalese style and take my time. I really have no agenda here…ever. I am happy so long as a read some of the Peace Corps business material they gave us, Speak/study some wolof and French, and walk around the city a little bit. And let’s see …today at lunch, which was fish balls, rich and vegetables( I told myself I was eating meatballs and for the one bite I actually believed it—it was great)…so at lunch I actually got some wolof correct when an older man at the bowl said some things to me. And I am going for tea at my tutor’s house today to practice more.
I lucked out to live right down the street from a great man, Pap Samb. He has been a teacher here for twenty-five plus years and has tutored countless Peace Corps volunteers. He is blind so he writes words out in the sand and is just so awesome, I love it. He is one of those natural teacher types, who just likes to see you learn. We meet three times a week for an hour each time. Two sessions a week for wolof, one for French. He thinks I do not need more French, but he is fooling himself. I want to be fluent in French by the time I leave, as well as Wolof.
Soo, Louga is hot. It is sandy. It is a big city by Senegalese standards and there are two paved roads. Walking in dirty sand everywhere is a lot more work than roads. “when you get on the road, you are like ‘man, im flying!’”, said Adrian.
Soooo… I can buy just about everything I need here, too. I get my bananas, my spaghetti sandwiches ( oooo yeaaaa), my café touba, and my biskrems. What else could a girl need? Well….FIXED PRICES. They need to work on that here. Not only do I always feel like im getting screwed, but also its better for the economy. Taxes and stuff, right?
So more of those surreal moments I wondered about have come along. Just one or two, when I was like well, this is mighty surreal. I don’t really miss America or take myself to that mindset where I picture certain things there for more than 10 seconds because it is just too bizarre. So it is more surreal now because I am finally not in Thies, where I saw loads of Americans every day and had a schedule set for me. I am in a city where I am going to be working for two years, doing whatever the hell I feel like( keeping the people here in mind, naturally). And im not gonna be speaking English, yo. Oh no. It is a weird feeling. J has a sweet place and has this whole roof to himself. And I was looking off it the other day, looking at good ol Senegal lit up by a western union sign and I was like “soo…hmmm…ok. I live here. Right.” I have not lived anywhere for two years straight since high school. And now its in Louga. Senegal. West Africa. Dave asked me online yesterday if I feel like I am in Africa. The answer is Yes. Yes, Yes, Yes.
Come visit me if you dare.
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