Have I ever really talked about the talibe here in Senegal? I don’t think so and it’s a major component of life here. The talibe, as if they don’t have their own names, like me the toubab, Its really sad, too. And most people here do not think its sad, it is a necessary component of the culture to a lot of people here.
So, parents give away a young boy child to a marabout, which is a religious muslim leader. And so they go and study the Quran, which is the Bible of Islam. They memorize this. So in turn, they know how to write and recite the Quaran. I will hold out my judgements on this particular aspect of what will they do with these skills other than stay here and recite the Quaran. Supposedly one of the now Peace Corps language trainers, who is a really lively smart guy, used to be a Talibe.
So they never see their parents, rather they spend their whole days begging for money. In the past, this was to give them a sense of humility, comparable to adult monks who receive alms in Thailand for example. But these children now beg to fund the whole operation. Rumors of kids being beaten if they don’t meet a quota during the day are around. But if you give money to these kids, they don’t get it. I buy them food if we are near bananas or whatever.
So not only do these little packs of boys spend their days with their hands out, palms up, in dirty ripped clothes, wandering alone in dark nights, lucky to have shoes, but they also have to come into houses and ask for lunch and dinner. Its part of the society, everyone always gives it to them, unless we hardly have any ourselves, in which case you qsk them to excuse you and come back tomorrow. So, they walk in the front door, stand there shyly, waiting for someone to say “talibe, come here” and they come hand their empty coffee can or empty butter plastic container to someone who plops some rice and occasionally some fish or veggies in. And so is their lives.
I cannot help but be upset by it. I have tried a few times to explain it to Senegalese people. These are kids, I say. They probably think no one cares or loves them. Their own parents gave them away to spend their lives begging- for what? Some think its necessary. Is it so there are people to read the Quaran? I don’t know. I have a Senegalese friend in St Louis who works with NGOs to provide education to these kids. Tostan, an American NGO started in Senegal by, I believe, a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, has a program providing various services for these kids, too. But there are so manyyyy, how can we reach them all? I don’t know. For now, I give them occasional eggs and bananas. And ask their name.
Its like maslows heirchry of needs. You don’t think about emotional health until physical health is taken care of, which in most cases its not top notch.
Other news: I drank a diet coke today and it tasted so nasty. I used to love those things, though I know when I come back to America I will have a big fountain 44 oz sucka. I think cuz its so freakishly hot, water is the only good drink. It is HOT. Sleeping in sweat is so cool. Thank God I have electricity for a fan. It blows hot air but I reckon its better than dada. Those village volunteers are much more hardcore.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
wrote this last night
On dirais que tu es en joy today. Hahaha just realized he wrote the last word in English. That would be my host brother who just sent me a text saying my fam said I seemed really happy today. And not only that, Yoro called me tonight.I feel quite strongly for the man. And we don’t get to talk a lot because its expensive and were broke. He is in Dakar. But we talked for over ten minutes which is a lot. And I cried because I miss him so much. Which shit its been a long time since ive done that. Which is to say, Im happy.
Even more so, I talked to my sister for over an hour tonight. Expensive TROP (very) but worth it! GREAT to talk with her. I bought 3 freaking cards of credit which usually I go through in over a month. Second time ive called her and its been over 4 months. Good times.
Right which brings me to the original point of this blog. Just like when Suzanne said things about having a small apartment or a little bit of money, I would sometimes refer to my much lesser circumstances. Which they are. But Ive also learned a lot. And I also chose this situation and I don’t believe ive ever really complained about it.
I studied abroad in England and started to catch onto cultural differences, greediness of the west and whatnot. But now living in the essentially opposite culture has done something different for me. I want to be clear I don’t think Americans are selfish or that all of you living much cozier lives than my friends and family here are wrong for doing so. It is what it is. And you go to work every day and earn your money for your life, so you deserve it. I believe that. If anything, living in Africa, which is like some dark mysterious place as portrayed by the media, has made everything that much more confusing. To me, its clear these people have obviously been screwed and have much less of a life chance and sense of optimism than my American ass does.
Its also clear they are awesome, deserving, smart, heart warming folks also. Just seeing the smiles on Daba and Anta’s face when I was coming back into my room tonight after buying my second phone card because they were happy for me reminds me how nice some people are. Sometimes I loathe my family here but its usually gone by the morning. And when I go off at them, they seemingly forgive and forget. Kind of like a family. Very Senegalese. So anyways. Theres a mosquito in my net right now and is gotten me a few times. Grr.
So, even though life sucks, it doesn’t. And you know,these people are happier than your average American. And I was reading barrack obamas book ‘dreams from my father’ and somewhere in there there is a guy talking about blacks in the ghetto in America and how its sad to see kids not smiling. Its not right and he waned to do something about it. And I thought, man these kids smile so much here. Today when Lamp called me over (who knows why) to watch him splash really cold water for a bath on top of a rock in the back of the compound while making ridiculous excited faces, it reminded me of my brother when he was little, as Lamp often does. (which gets him favoritism-aka cookies and a little pocket change) And its just so cute. The other day I bear hugged him in front of his friends. He is like 13 years old so that’s totally not cool. It was hilarious for me. And so the kids are happy here. The people generally are, though always complaining about money but often willing to spot you some. Anyways, today is one of those good days.
Even more so, I talked to my sister for over an hour tonight. Expensive TROP (very) but worth it! GREAT to talk with her. I bought 3 freaking cards of credit which usually I go through in over a month. Second time ive called her and its been over 4 months. Good times.
Right which brings me to the original point of this blog. Just like when Suzanne said things about having a small apartment or a little bit of money, I would sometimes refer to my much lesser circumstances. Which they are. But Ive also learned a lot. And I also chose this situation and I don’t believe ive ever really complained about it.
I studied abroad in England and started to catch onto cultural differences, greediness of the west and whatnot. But now living in the essentially opposite culture has done something different for me. I want to be clear I don’t think Americans are selfish or that all of you living much cozier lives than my friends and family here are wrong for doing so. It is what it is. And you go to work every day and earn your money for your life, so you deserve it. I believe that. If anything, living in Africa, which is like some dark mysterious place as portrayed by the media, has made everything that much more confusing. To me, its clear these people have obviously been screwed and have much less of a life chance and sense of optimism than my American ass does.
Its also clear they are awesome, deserving, smart, heart warming folks also. Just seeing the smiles on Daba and Anta’s face when I was coming back into my room tonight after buying my second phone card because they were happy for me reminds me how nice some people are. Sometimes I loathe my family here but its usually gone by the morning. And when I go off at them, they seemingly forgive and forget. Kind of like a family. Very Senegalese. So anyways. Theres a mosquito in my net right now and is gotten me a few times. Grr.
So, even though life sucks, it doesn’t. And you know,these people are happier than your average American. And I was reading barrack obamas book ‘dreams from my father’ and somewhere in there there is a guy talking about blacks in the ghetto in America and how its sad to see kids not smiling. Its not right and he waned to do something about it. And I thought, man these kids smile so much here. Today when Lamp called me over (who knows why) to watch him splash really cold water for a bath on top of a rock in the back of the compound while making ridiculous excited faces, it reminded me of my brother when he was little, as Lamp often does. (which gets him favoritism-aka cookies and a little pocket change) And its just so cute. The other day I bear hugged him in front of his friends. He is like 13 years old so that’s totally not cool. It was hilarious for me. And so the kids are happy here. The people generally are, though always complaining about money but often willing to spot you some. Anyways, today is one of those good days.
gender is a biotch
Feminists: Beware. Senegal isn’t ready for you. They often seem completely oblivious to that, but nonetheless, this is not a culture that values woman as individual people. Things and attitudes are slowwwwwwly changing, not that it’s enough.
Just got through with another gender discussionish argument of sort at the boutique. Yep, that is my Sunday night. I was just hanging at the shop, poking at a huge moth on top of a rice sack. So, some guy I find kind of cool, Faye, (plus is a good friend of my favorite guy here) start onto a conversation. First, we (me and my every day chat buddy Ngun & Malik, boutique worker-another daily fixture in my life) dude were talking about how Americans like to have a lot of fun. (I mentioned the ping pong table team louga built and uses regularly) Because we have money. Because we work. That was all agreed on.
And so then it goes onto the fact that Faye thought my life in Senegal was all grand and dandy, easier than in America (based on his little knowledge of me and America). And I told him its not true, one reason being I don’t get a lot of deserved respect because I am a female. Females are sub-servant, always doing everything while dudes sit (stereotypically) here.
Granted, I don’t do that. I am a sort of male-female here. But there are the men who, you know, don’t shake my hand, ask me to be their 3rd wife, dismiss my words, tell me to sit down when I play sports, and constantly tell me they love me. (can really be a nightmare if you aren’t able to handle it) I am surprised each time a man is professional, in all reality. It does happen.
The discussions I have with people about gender roles always back to well, its Islam. And I’m like so you have a book that says men can have 4 wives, that’s a great idea! Guess I wont think for myself. I kept going back to Senegal being naxna (good) for dudes, naxul (bad) for gals. Which, I mean, is true.
Definitely the best thing about learning wolof is telling people off in their local language. White person is telling me off in wolof. I can’t not listen.
Lately, I average a stranger every two days. Last week was a good week. Being called a toubab is, no matter how hard you try to ignore it, really really annoying. It’s the word for white person. Some say its for the French only, who have a much worse reputation in Africa than America does. In fact, they love America here. So, maybe feminists do want to come for a vacation here rather than say, America-loathing Europe.
Some say toubab is for any person who is white. Its not malicious at all in most cases. But it feels, to an American, racist. Because, hey, lets face it. You’d be bitter at the French too if you were Senegalese. So I don’t like to be lumped in. And its always a lump with Europe, which with they are more familiar. And like, I am not European. Americans have a really nice reputation in Senegal, which I accredit partially to the Peace Corps definitely. Peace Corps is soft diplomacy. You really don’t see Europeans speaking Wolof. Or Pulaar. Or Mandinka. Etc. And that means almost everything to people.
It shows them you understand them because you care about them. And that’s something unique to Peace Corps throughout the world.
I tell people “I have a name. I don’t call you black. I call you by your name and if I don’t know it, I ask for it. Understand? Where is your respect?”
Or the other day, at bean sandwich stand (I was all proud I got up so early so I went for a coffee and kidney beans on bread sandwich) I had a guy telling me he loved me. And I wasn’t in the mood for it so I asked him where his freaking respect for me is. Can’t a girl just have breakfast and listen to her earphones? I know you don’t talk like this to Senegalese women. And everyone there was like “wax na dig, wax na dig”, like you speak the truth. It just needs to be in wolof and you have a newfound freedom.
Being able to express yourself is so invaluable. And telling off (really surprised, impressed) people is just a bonus.
Just got through with another gender discussionish argument of sort at the boutique. Yep, that is my Sunday night. I was just hanging at the shop, poking at a huge moth on top of a rice sack. So, some guy I find kind of cool, Faye, (plus is a good friend of my favorite guy here) start onto a conversation. First, we (me and my every day chat buddy Ngun & Malik, boutique worker-another daily fixture in my life) dude were talking about how Americans like to have a lot of fun. (I mentioned the ping pong table team louga built and uses regularly) Because we have money. Because we work. That was all agreed on.
And so then it goes onto the fact that Faye thought my life in Senegal was all grand and dandy, easier than in America (based on his little knowledge of me and America). And I told him its not true, one reason being I don’t get a lot of deserved respect because I am a female. Females are sub-servant, always doing everything while dudes sit (stereotypically) here.
Granted, I don’t do that. I am a sort of male-female here. But there are the men who, you know, don’t shake my hand, ask me to be their 3rd wife, dismiss my words, tell me to sit down when I play sports, and constantly tell me they love me. (can really be a nightmare if you aren’t able to handle it) I am surprised each time a man is professional, in all reality. It does happen.
The discussions I have with people about gender roles always back to well, its Islam. And I’m like so you have a book that says men can have 4 wives, that’s a great idea! Guess I wont think for myself. I kept going back to Senegal being naxna (good) for dudes, naxul (bad) for gals. Which, I mean, is true.
Definitely the best thing about learning wolof is telling people off in their local language. White person is telling me off in wolof. I can’t not listen.
Lately, I average a stranger every two days. Last week was a good week. Being called a toubab is, no matter how hard you try to ignore it, really really annoying. It’s the word for white person. Some say its for the French only, who have a much worse reputation in Africa than America does. In fact, they love America here. So, maybe feminists do want to come for a vacation here rather than say, America-loathing Europe.
Some say toubab is for any person who is white. Its not malicious at all in most cases. But it feels, to an American, racist. Because, hey, lets face it. You’d be bitter at the French too if you were Senegalese. So I don’t like to be lumped in. And its always a lump with Europe, which with they are more familiar. And like, I am not European. Americans have a really nice reputation in Senegal, which I accredit partially to the Peace Corps definitely. Peace Corps is soft diplomacy. You really don’t see Europeans speaking Wolof. Or Pulaar. Or Mandinka. Etc. And that means almost everything to people.
It shows them you understand them because you care about them. And that’s something unique to Peace Corps throughout the world.
I tell people “I have a name. I don’t call you black. I call you by your name and if I don’t know it, I ask for it. Understand? Where is your respect?”
Or the other day, at bean sandwich stand (I was all proud I got up so early so I went for a coffee and kidney beans on bread sandwich) I had a guy telling me he loved me. And I wasn’t in the mood for it so I asked him where his freaking respect for me is. Can’t a girl just have breakfast and listen to her earphones? I know you don’t talk like this to Senegalese women. And everyone there was like “wax na dig, wax na dig”, like you speak the truth. It just needs to be in wolof and you have a newfound freedom.
Being able to express yourself is so invaluable. And telling off (really surprised, impressed) people is just a bonus.
Madame Sekk
Oh my gosh, something I never thought possible is turning out to be sort of natural. Me-a teacher of youth! Though right now I still think teaching in America is out of the picture, it is an interesting revelation of mine. I keep taking on new students, classes, and working in more schools. Another reason I think Louga was fatefully chosen to be my site- there are a lot of schools. So as of right now, I have two English classes once a week, am tutoring two students personally, doing various talks and discussions in classrooms, am doing the SeneGAD scholarship program with one of the middle schools and maybe another, and hope to build another girl’s group out of the candidates. The reason I am really hoping for that is because these are the girls with the best grades in school, which could make for a really beneficial girls group. In challah. I am really happy with the punctuality and professionalism of the middle school principal in the scholarship process. Tomorrow I will supervise the girls writing their essays responding to the questions about life after school, etc.
Please consider donating to SeneGAD to see that all girls in the country who are worthy of it, receive the scholarship to continue their studies. And I can seriously imagine what that would do for a girl here-give her so much confidence and pride, and that really touches me. Girl power, yo. Education, yo!
I actually was at the American Corner in the Cultural Center today and there were some young teenage boys doing online quiz games, testing knowledge in science and then English. And I was trying to help them with their English (I got one wrong hahaha) and then afterward spontaneously agreed to start doing a class with them Friday mornings because they don’t have school then. (how can I say no to kids who pay to use computers and take educational quizzes!?) Its weird how the students here are really eager to do classes in their free time. Ok I guess its not weird because the educational system here could afford to stimulate their minds more and also there are hardly any after school activities. Alors! In steps Ndaye. Me. So… yea. Oh along with that, I am starting this week to teach some elementary school teachers a grade keeping program on excel and basic internet skills. Hopefully that will trickle down to other teachers and students. And if successful, I will do it with more schools.
In a lot of ways, all Peace Corps volunteers are teachers. Mine is just more blatant at the moment. I am totally winging it each and every day, but each time I gain more confidence and skill. Its pretty cool actually. I am surprised more people do not join the Peace Corps, because hey its like free travel and awesome professional experience, what with all the freedom and trust. And then I am like wait, this sucks here dude. This is hard, ambiguous work. And the people really can get under your skin. Its definitely the most testing experience of my life. Its like you cant just escape the people that piss you off. And that’s just it- I do get pissed off here, something really rare for me in the past. They are here, you are here. I am indeed here. It is still not totally normal, I thought to myself as I squeezed by a truck parked in the middle of the vegetable market this morning, stepping in trash. I have my doubts it ever will be. But who knows, really. I have made it 7 months, which leaves just over a year and a half left. Time flies more than it takes forever.
Please consider donating to SeneGAD to see that all girls in the country who are worthy of it, receive the scholarship to continue their studies. And I can seriously imagine what that would do for a girl here-give her so much confidence and pride, and that really touches me. Girl power, yo. Education, yo!
I actually was at the American Corner in the Cultural Center today and there were some young teenage boys doing online quiz games, testing knowledge in science and then English. And I was trying to help them with their English (I got one wrong hahaha) and then afterward spontaneously agreed to start doing a class with them Friday mornings because they don’t have school then. (how can I say no to kids who pay to use computers and take educational quizzes!?) Its weird how the students here are really eager to do classes in their free time. Ok I guess its not weird because the educational system here could afford to stimulate their minds more and also there are hardly any after school activities. Alors! In steps Ndaye. Me. So… yea. Oh along with that, I am starting this week to teach some elementary school teachers a grade keeping program on excel and basic internet skills. Hopefully that will trickle down to other teachers and students. And if successful, I will do it with more schools.
In a lot of ways, all Peace Corps volunteers are teachers. Mine is just more blatant at the moment. I am totally winging it each and every day, but each time I gain more confidence and skill. Its pretty cool actually. I am surprised more people do not join the Peace Corps, because hey its like free travel and awesome professional experience, what with all the freedom and trust. And then I am like wait, this sucks here dude. This is hard, ambiguous work. And the people really can get under your skin. Its definitely the most testing experience of my life. Its like you cant just escape the people that piss you off. And that’s just it- I do get pissed off here, something really rare for me in the past. They are here, you are here. I am indeed here. It is still not totally normal, I thought to myself as I squeezed by a truck parked in the middle of the vegetable market this morning, stepping in trash. I have my doubts it ever will be. But who knows, really. I have made it 7 months, which leaves just over a year and a half left. Time flies more than it takes forever.
my pet
I don’t really know her that well yet, so I haven’t given her a name. And I cant decide whether to go Senegalese, maybe Fatimita. Yea I kind of like Fatimita. And while I am tempted to name my friend I have only seen 3 or 4 times throughout the last few months, I don’t even want to give a last name, say maybe Gaye or Diop, to the family of cock roaches stopping by the last few days. Now a wall-roaming gecko I think has more staying power, and thus, it is now decided she is to be named Fatimita.
Sometimes I think about the pluses and negatives of living in a city versus a village in Senegal. I have electricity and can buy eggs and icecream treat things(though I think ive maybe bought this once. The village volunteers coming into a city go far more hogwild.) Everyone in Louga city will never know me (though large amounts of people seem to) and thus I am often white person entertainment, followed by white person who speaks wolof entertainment, followed by tests of how much wolof does this white person speak, rather than a person.
300 person villages get accustomed to the toubab, people outside of my neighborhood are catching on slowly. Hearing a kid scream “bonjour Madame” or “toubab, toubab” can literally ruin your day if you let it. “Dude im not fucking French you little brat. Haven’t you seen me here before? My NAME is NDAYE. DEG NGA?!?!”
haha so. Anyways, I am kinda earning some village cred with all these critters hanging out in my room. Down south they have to use their candles to look for snakes under beds. Here I just turn on the light and find my chaco to kill the little (ok huge and speedy) cockroach.
Message to Fatimita: please don’t come on my bed, I will be really really freaked out. I have intimacy issues. Please stay on the wall for now. We’ll negotiate as time goes on. Cockroaches aren’t scary anymore. The little snake that was in my room that I had to leave and squeamishly scream outside while my brother removed, well that might always be scary. I don’t want to make any promises, but maybe one day we can snuggle.
Sometimes I think about the pluses and negatives of living in a city versus a village in Senegal. I have electricity and can buy eggs and icecream treat things(though I think ive maybe bought this once. The village volunteers coming into a city go far more hogwild.) Everyone in Louga city will never know me (though large amounts of people seem to) and thus I am often white person entertainment, followed by white person who speaks wolof entertainment, followed by tests of how much wolof does this white person speak, rather than a person.
300 person villages get accustomed to the toubab, people outside of my neighborhood are catching on slowly. Hearing a kid scream “bonjour Madame” or “toubab, toubab” can literally ruin your day if you let it. “Dude im not fucking French you little brat. Haven’t you seen me here before? My NAME is NDAYE. DEG NGA?!?!”
haha so. Anyways, I am kinda earning some village cred with all these critters hanging out in my room. Down south they have to use their candles to look for snakes under beds. Here I just turn on the light and find my chaco to kill the little (ok huge and speedy) cockroach.
Message to Fatimita: please don’t come on my bed, I will be really really freaked out. I have intimacy issues. Please stay on the wall for now. We’ll negotiate as time goes on. Cockroaches aren’t scary anymore. The little snake that was in my room that I had to leave and squeamishly scream outside while my brother removed, well that might always be scary. I don’t want to make any promises, but maybe one day we can snuggle.
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