Merry Christmas!

Just about everyday I have someone tell me I that need to convert to Islam or I have someone teaching me about the religion (which is intermittently interesting, annoying, amusing, and exasperating). My time here has rekindled my belief in my own religion, about which I would love to have a dialogue with many of you. It could not feel less like Christmas here since it is still too hot to be outside in the middle of the day, the concept of snow is incomprehensible, and Christmas is not really observed since there are barely any Christians here (but I am enjoying a great holiday and have loved walking around confusing the Senegalese by wishing them all a Merry Christmas). However, the overly exuberant consumer spirit that we Americans have grown to embrace during the Holidays is in the air here as well. Tabaski, the biggest Muslim holiday is in a week or so. La Fete des Moutons. Every family buys a sheep to eat and spends what has to be all their savings and then some to celebrate this holiday. More to come on this holiday after I have seen it with my own eyes.

As I have nothing more to say about Christmas at this point, I thought I would tell you a bit about my work here and what I have been/will be doing with myself over the next two years. After two months of intensive language and cultural training in the Peace Corps’ training center in Thies (called Pre-Service Training), this week I passed the one month mark at my site (woo woo!). The first three months at site (from a month ago until February, for those following at home) are considered an integration period. This time is set aside to learn the local language (in my case, Wolof), meet potential work partners in town, get to know your way around, and get over any pride or feelings of normalcy you may have had coming into site. The notion of true integration is an unattainable goal (we can only do our best), but a crucial one to strive for. I will try to explain later peoples’ perceptions of Toubabs (outsiders). In short, I will get nothing accomplished if I am not as integrated as possible because they have not been given the best impression of us Toubabs (see slave trade, continued European exploitation, and largely unsuccessful World Bank, IMF & NGO investment). I do not actually start working until after a 2nd training of 3 weeks in Thies in February (called In-Service Training).

As for a typical day in the life, I’ll break it down like this (cue beat):

7:45- wake

8:30- drive (yes, drive) to Mayor’s office where my host dad works. I emphasize the driving part because I could be the only volunteer in this country that drives to work on a regular basis, and the Mayor’s office is a ten minute walk from my house. But my dad is a patron, and I’m not one to rock the boat.
At the Mayor’s office, I chill on the stoop and chat with my dad and the other folks that work there as they intermittently praise me for the Wolof I know, and give me crap for not remembering their names, but only start work after an hour or two of talking.

9:30- I walk over to the primary school where my Supervisor teaches. Here I hang out with the teachers in between classes, and occasionally try to teach some 10 yr olds French or math (I wish you could see my pathetic attempts to exercise authority, haha!). The Director of the school teaches me a little Wolof also. This guy is the man; I’ll get a picture eventually.

1:00- I walk home for lunch with my family (see previous entry).

1:30- Nap. (I need to learn the Wolof word for siesta.)

3:30- Have some tea with my brothers and sisters.

4:00- Walk around town and talk with some folks. Try to convince them that they want to stay in Senegal and work instead of coming with me to America.

5:30- Come home and maybe play some football with my 14 yr old brother and other young’uns who kick my butt. Or I run by my house, where there’s nothing but sand, trees, and some cows. This is dope at sunset.

6:45- Time to myself: read/write

8:30- Dinner with the fam

9:00- Chill with my brothers, sisters, and friends. Try to understand what they are saying and drop my lil one liners that are still somehow funny after the 50th time.

10:30- Bed


There you have it. I’ve met women’s group leaders, mutuels (micro-finance banks), and other potential work partners (metal workers, animal breeders, etc). So mix those meetings, some football matches, a couple funerals, a baptism, and a wedding with the typical day above and you have an idea of the last month of my life.

So we’ll see how this all unfurls, but the reasons Peace Corps sent me here as a Small Enterprise Development volunteer go something like this (I stress again these words are my interpretation of Peace Corps’ goals, see disclaimer):

1. Increase the capacity of the Senegalese to develop small enterprises (there are other sectors- i.e. Agriculture, Health, etc.)

2. Promote a better understanding of Americans for the Senegalese

3. Promote a better understanding of the Senegalese for Americans

The 2nd goal is achieved through my high tolerance for verbal abuse and my unending desire to make people laugh (mostly at me). The 3rd goal is achieved through these nonsensical blog entries, and when I try to answer “what’s it like?” when I see you next. These two goals are attainable, and I think that they are natural products of happy volunteers spending time in their communities. I don’t know if I’ll ever get people to believe that my hanging out with them, going to baptisms, etc. is part of the reason I was sent here, but it is. It still bothers me when my host family says “tey liggeyoo” (today you’re not working). I know that although these cultural exchange goals are important, I need to give all the time and energy I can to the first goal, and I can always be doing more. So it makes me less guilty when they tell me that I never stop going places and I need to rest.

The 1st goal is the toughest. This is the work part. So much money has been spent (although much of it so poorly managed) and so many organizations have tried to lift Africa out of poverty. Little progress has been made. I struggle everyday to answer the question- why? I am slowly picking up some insight, and you will probably hear more than you want to from me on this in the years to come. My job is not to answer the why as much as the how to overcome. So I can do a range of activities to teach people how to fish, if you will (because that’s better than giving them fish, right?!!). Namely- I could teach marketing, accounting, information technology, microfinance, business planning, and management. At this point, I think the best approach is to get people to open their minds to the fact that they can create new businesses that do not even exist in their town already (gasp!). The contrast coming from Silicon Valley, the pinnacle of innovation, to my town, where everyone falls into 5 businesses and they all run their shops exactly the same way and sell exactly the same stuff, is almost physically painful to observe. So to open minds, I start by asking questions about revolutionary concepts like specialization and differentiation, and see if anyone bites. I also want to work on business plans. The two delivery methods for my work are through trainings as well as working one-on-one with businesses. I will share the manifestation of all these words as time goes along. For now I am just stoked when people say they want to work with me!

Hopefully this entry wasn’t too garbled and/or boring. I figure you’re more likely to read this than go to the Peace Corps website (www.peacecorps.gov). Next time I will write about my bizzaro holidays.

And a happy new year!

Naam

Naka sed bi? Metti na!

That means how’s the cold? It hurts, huh! The funny part is I’m serious. It gets down to the mid 60’s, maaaybe the low 60’s at night as well as in the morning, and this is the type of conversation that circulates. Me, Mr. ‘I grew up in Chicago, I will never be cold in Africa’, I too was freezing my butt off last night! I was wearing the sweats and still shivering, dreaming about the searing hot weather of previous days…funny how quickly your body gets accustomed to the surrounding climate.

Senegalese Food (Naam)
Most Senegalese food has one consistent component: ceb (pronounced cheb)- more widely known as rice. There is ceb u xonq and ceb u weer (white rice and red rice). There is ceb u jin (rice and fish), ceb u yapp (rice and beef), ceb u ginaar (rice and chicken). Most other dishes have rice as the base of the meal even if the word ceb is not in the name. Yassa ginaar (my favorite dish), for example is rice with an onion sauce and chicken. Another money one is the mafet, which is rice with peanut sauce and usually beef. The peanut sauce has a bunch of pepper in it though; it’s different from a Thai peanut sauce. The other constant in Senegalese food is copious amounts of palm oil, which is heavy but I dig. I really like Senegalese food. It is repetitive, but I’m not that picky of an eater. The only thing I refuse to eat is this okra sauce they have occasionally in addition to ceb u jin which tastes and looks like salty green snot.

My mere recitation of the names of these dishes can send the Senegalese into fits of laughter. It’s even funnier than when they ask me who my mom and dad are, and I reply Cheikh Niang & Aminta Gueye (my host family parents; don’t worry mom and dad, I haven’t forgotten you). Yes, I am now a comedic genius.

Meals take place family style around a big bowl (maybe two feet in diameter). In my family, and in many places I have seen, the men eat from a different bowl than the women. So I saddle up on my foot-high stool around the bowl with my dad and my four brothers as eight or so women gather ‘round the other bowl. Most of the time we eat with spoons, but I have eaten the proper African way, with my hand. The deal is, you have to pack the rice into a ball and get the ball onto your fingers, not your palm, for consumption. The rest of the time we use baguette bread as a kind of scooper to eat.

I am blessed, as my family eats very well. They tell me that I eat too slowly and I think that I am spoiled with disproportionate amounts of meat & vegetables, but I never leave hungry. Hearing village dwelling volunteers talk about plain rice and skipped meals makes me grateful that I am where I am. Lekkal!

Disclaimer of Sorts

The views expressed on this page are merely my own. They do not reflect the views of the Peace Corps or the American government. Every volunteer's experience is different.

My First Days at Site

Lu bees?

Hey y’all. At this point my English is rapidly disintegrating so bear with me. I have safely arrived at site! I am not supposed to post my exact location on this blog, but I will email the name if you ask me to. Just know that I am about an hour and a half from my previous home, Thies, in a town of about 18,000 folks.

My three weeks at site have been a prototypical Peace Corps Volunteer roller coaster ride. The highs are incredible, the lows make me question my being here, and the rest of my time is spent in constant social awkwardness. The one word that describes myself at this time is infant. Most of the time I have trouble saying anything more than ‘hello, how are you’ in my language (Wolof), and my family and friends lead me around by the hand, rarely leaving me alone outside of the house. This experience is incredibly humbling; I am at the feet of my family to feed me, to introduce me to the neighborhood. I am at the feet of my counterpart and supervisor (co-workers more or less) to introduce me to the important people of the town, explain my goals/role here, and to beat the fact that I am not a walking check waiting to be cashed into everyone’s heads. That being said, both my family, as well as my supervisor, have been incredibly helpful taking me all over town every day.

After resetting expectations of myself, every small victory gets me so stoked. Every person I trick into thinking I speak Wolof (I wish you could see how funny they think it is, it gets me every time), every potentially valuable contact I make, every new work idea that I have gives me so much hope, and so my cup runneth over. For me, the key is to forget trying to fit in and I only begin to understand the meaning of 'show no shame'. Good thing I like to laugh because it is my strategy for survival.

It is difficult trying to communicate with people here not only because of the language, but perhaps more importantly, because of the social norms and subtle social cues that differ from society to society. Here, in the Pays du Taranga (Country of Hospitality), I am treated like a king in other peoples’ homes. I must sit in the best chair, I must always have meat in front of me during each meal, etc. As I am here to give to the Senegalese, it is difficult for me to accept this ridiculously excessive generosity. I tried to fight them at first, refusing things until my hosts would shove the thing into my hand. After more than likely offending a few people and wasting energy arguing, I have decided to accept all these offerings for what they are. It is a social requirement that guests are well taken care of in Senegal. By accepting these offerings, I am showing my appreciation. I also must show my own generosity back in other ways. The last few days have been a bit easier in this regard, but I still feel heavily indebted, especially to my family. They feed and house me, while refusing a financial contribution. I make as big of an idiot of myself (here I talk as if I do it on purpose) to entertain them, as I think of ways to contribute a bit here and a bit there.

OK, I feel sort of ridiculous trying to explain everything all at the same time. My town doesn’t have internet, but I am doing my best. Ndonk-ndonk mooy japp golo ci naay. (Little by little you catch the monkey in the grass.) That’s my word! I incite this proverb at least 7 times a day.

Email me your cell phone numbers when you have the chance so I can text you.

Ba ci kanam!

Pete aka Mustafaa Niang