Dakar. I read before I had even come here that it is the Paris of Africa. Huh. I disagree.
I still really like it here, but I think I like it because it isn’t Paris.
On Animals:
Only yesterday did some of the girls in the group learn how to decipher between goats and sheep. In their defense, the sheep here aren’t wooly like the ones we’re familiar with. We learned to look for the long tails (sheep) and the short tails (goats). Also, after pointing out the ‘massive balls on that one”, did someone learn that nanny goats have 2 teats, not 4 like cows. Oh! Americans!
Many families in Dakar keep a goat or two on their rooftops, bringing food up and poop down regularly. Land is expensive so it seems to make financial sense. Feeding the goats cardboard (which they do) also makes financial sense, but I’m not sure I can support that one.
“But he likes cardboard! Look! Watch how quickly he eats it!” True story.
Goats and sheep roam freely in the streets, often in herds that block traffic. I haven’t seen any branding so I’m not sure how families know whose goats and whose, but it seems to work out finely. I had expected to see a lot more chickens, based off of my experiences in Mexico and Latin America, but they are few here. They don’t have much to forage, I suppose, considering the ground here is only sand (no bugs), and chickens won’t eat cardboard…. Maybe they’re just too expensive to feed.
Fun observations this week:
-Rickshaw horses eating their grain and hay from a Senegalese trough: a defunct and fallen refrigerator with the doors ripped off.
-7-8 year old girls carrying 1-2 year olds on their backs. The younger babies carry teddy bears on their backs for practice.
- Small children here are afraid of cats! It’s understandable because they are all feral here, like rats in the u.s.. Plus, those howling noises they make at night would frighten anyone. When a stray gets in the house (often, because the house is open-air), they all scream and cry. Even better, the word for cat in Wolof is moose, so they start screaming and pointing at the ‘moose-mi”.
- The Senegalese have interesting believes regarding health. For example, Adult Diabetes is a huge problem here. I’m guessing this is, in part, a result of the massive amounts of sugar and white grain-food they. 4 sugar cubes in a small cup of coffee with a half baguette with chocolate is a standard breakfast. For lunch, more baguette with some sort of protein with more sugar-coffee and some sugar cookies and a soda or a juice, then some white rice with some fish or veggies and some juice or soda for dessert. They eat ungodly amounts of sugar here. When I mentioned the correlation between sugar and adult diabetes, they thought I was crazy and told me that diabetes comes ONLY from not exercising enough. Sugar intake has ‘nothing to do with it.”
Also, if you are caught without your flip-flops on in the house you will get firm scolding, because everyone knows colds come from your feet toughing cold tile. (Actually, I think gramma used to tell me that one, too)
None of the students have been able to figure out why the Senegalese are obsessed with the t.v. They watch it at all hours, during any free time, full volume. Somehow, I caught a moment when no one was in the living room and the t.v. was off, so I installed myself in the recliner to do some computer work while listening to some soft music on my laptop. My host mom saw me, sitting alone, came to turn on the t.v. (volume all the way up, of course), only to turn around and walk out of the room. She was being polite, in a Senegalese way. However, I was annoyed and got up to turn it off. So it goes.
-Terranga. This is Wolof for hospitality, and the Senegalese are very proud of this aspect of their culture. The hospitality is so strong here that if you are lost and ask directions, the person you are asking will likely drop everything they are doing to take you to your desired location. It manifests itself again in the tradition of giving items to people if they fancy them. If you say, “Oh, your sunglasses are very cute” to a Senegalese, you are likely to walk away wearing them. However, it sucks when it happens the other way. I’ve learned that the polite way of getting out of this ‘gifting’ obligation is to respond with, “I will name them after you.”
… And thus, my sunglasses will forever be named Abdul Muhammad NDiaye.
We succeeded in getting our visas to Mali, all 6 of us. Not sure yet on how to get there as we have several options ranging from $80- 400 dollars. We’re first headed to Bamako, the capital of Mali. Stay there a few days and hire a guide to bring us to Dogon Country/Territory. Spend 5-7 days hiking around the Dogon cliffs, villages, and ceremonial sites and then head back the way we came. I’m so excited!
Showing posts with label dakar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dakar. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
It's been a week already?!
I landed in Dakar on Sunday around 4 pm with two other girls from the states that I met in the Brussels airport. We were picked up by a very nice, very nonchalant Senegalese man who was to take us to our hotel. He spoke no English and very little French. Wolof, mainly. My baggage was not on the carousel. It had not arrived. He negotiated the lost luggage agent for me, thank god. Of the 4 students in the group, 40 of them are women--I had plenty of clothes and toiletries to borrow until it arrived on Wednesday
The first things I noticed about Dakar: Women in their beautiful Boubous: bright flowing dresses, pressed with starch until it shines. Not many trees, trash everywhere. Smiling people. Little shops selling phone cards, candy, and soda. Booths to fix printers, booths to fix and sell shoes, bags, fabric, tailors, etc. Everything is here! A rubble pile right next to a grand villa with flowering vines and rot iron fence work. Guards at the gate, guards in the alley. Talibes everywhere holding out an empty coffee can for money. Talibes are students of an Islamic leader, or marabout, who beg during the day for their studies and food, and sometimes for the benefit of their marabout. We've been advised not to give them money because the marabout/talibes relationship is not always healthy and continues the tradition. We could give them a little food or candy instead. A small talibe- probably 7 years old- approached me and said hello, holding out his can. I gave him a piece of chocolate. A man 10 yards away, wearing much nicer clothing, called him over and made him share it.
We stayed at L'hotel Citronelle from Sunday to Friday, a relatively fancy little hotel with hot showers and t.v.. 5 girls to a room: two on the bed and 3 on the large padded cot on the floor. We were well acquainted within a day. The other students here are all younger than me, 20 or 21. They are traditional students who went to college right after highschool. A girl from Harvard, Columbia, Georgetown, Tufts University, etc. Nice private schools. There are a few foreign students- from the U.K. and Canada and also an american girl who grew up in Uganda, another from Haiti. Many of the other students here are children of missionaries (yikes!).
We attend Suffulk University, somehow affiliated with the Suffolk University in Boston. All the classes are in English. The African students there are rarely Senegalese- many are Nigerian, or from Togo, Guinea… Nigerians all speak perfect English and tease us about our lack of American political knowledge. Most of the people I’ve met, be on campus or not, speak 3 or more languages. Nigerians, for example, grow up speaking English but also speak fluent French and German, occasionally Wolof and Spanish. My host families interchangeably speak Wolof and French (French for my benefit).
Young, politically-interested students love to speak Spanish because they associate it with the struggle of the Cuban revolution and Che Guevara. If you speak Spanish here, it is a sure sign you are an activist or a revolutionary.
The food here is great, but very spicy with the bulk of the meal’s calories coming form couscous or white rice. Saucy fish or meat on top. A large platter on the floor with the family around it. Most Senegalese use their right hand to eat, but mine uses large spoons. I’m not sure if this is for my benefit or if they are more modernized than most. The matriarch of the family is responsible for deciding who gets what pieces of veggies or meat by tossing them with her spoon or thumb in your direction. It seems very maternal when my host mom flicks the nicest piece of fish to the part of the platter in front of me. When you finish, you get up and leave, traditionally to make room for someone else.
Senegalese culture is extremely communal. Most of their words directly translate into very endearing terms (i.e. the word for family-MBokk- translates into ‘those with whom I share my things’). One’s family includes your neighbors and friends. There is little appreciation for ‘private property’ within the family. All food is everyone’s food, all clothing is everyone’s clothing. If you are in a house during mealtime, you are expected to eat with them. I have a locked armoire that I must use. My host mom is a 50-something widow with a HUGE house (3 stories) in which she houses her children who do not live in the states. I counted 13 people at the last meal but I’m still learning who is actually related and who is just a friend/neighbor. My host mom’s name is Therese and she goes by Mere Therese (Aka Mother Theresa) She has 3 sons in North America, one in NY, one in Canada, and I couldn’t decipher the name of the third city. There are a few little girls running around who speak to me in Wolof only. They are 2, 3 and 7. There’s a boy who is 5 but I’m not sure if he lives here or not. When I don’t understand or do what they’ve asked, they say it slower or louder. When I still don’t understand they look at me with their eyebrows furrowed, I know they’re thinking, “what a retard!” They really like my things and the smaller ones want me to carry them and play all the time. Pick up a thing, teach me the word. Point at my hand, teach me the word. Occassionally they tell me to do something in French: On y va jouer dans ta chambre! (Let’s go play in your room!) I’m sure my nickname is “the nice retarded girl who will carry you all over the place and let you wear her hats”. I’m not sure how you say that in Wolof.
I really like it here and it's been an easy transition so far. I'll try to post some pictures soon.
It’s nearly midnight and I must wake up early to ride the ‘car rapide’ to the school. Alors, Bonsoir.
The first things I noticed about Dakar: Women in their beautiful Boubous: bright flowing dresses, pressed with starch until it shines. Not many trees, trash everywhere. Smiling people. Little shops selling phone cards, candy, and soda. Booths to fix printers, booths to fix and sell shoes, bags, fabric, tailors, etc. Everything is here! A rubble pile right next to a grand villa with flowering vines and rot iron fence work. Guards at the gate, guards in the alley. Talibes everywhere holding out an empty coffee can for money. Talibes are students of an Islamic leader, or marabout, who beg during the day for their studies and food, and sometimes for the benefit of their marabout. We've been advised not to give them money because the marabout/talibes relationship is not always healthy and continues the tradition. We could give them a little food or candy instead. A small talibe- probably 7 years old- approached me and said hello, holding out his can. I gave him a piece of chocolate. A man 10 yards away, wearing much nicer clothing, called him over and made him share it.
We stayed at L'hotel Citronelle from Sunday to Friday, a relatively fancy little hotel with hot showers and t.v.. 5 girls to a room: two on the bed and 3 on the large padded cot on the floor. We were well acquainted within a day. The other students here are all younger than me, 20 or 21. They are traditional students who went to college right after highschool. A girl from Harvard, Columbia, Georgetown, Tufts University, etc. Nice private schools. There are a few foreign students- from the U.K. and Canada and also an american girl who grew up in Uganda, another from Haiti. Many of the other students here are children of missionaries (yikes!).
We attend Suffulk University, somehow affiliated with the Suffolk University in Boston. All the classes are in English. The African students there are rarely Senegalese- many are Nigerian, or from Togo, Guinea… Nigerians all speak perfect English and tease us about our lack of American political knowledge. Most of the people I’ve met, be on campus or not, speak 3 or more languages. Nigerians, for example, grow up speaking English but also speak fluent French and German, occasionally Wolof and Spanish. My host families interchangeably speak Wolof and French (French for my benefit).
Young, politically-interested students love to speak Spanish because they associate it with the struggle of the Cuban revolution and Che Guevara. If you speak Spanish here, it is a sure sign you are an activist or a revolutionary.
The food here is great, but very spicy with the bulk of the meal’s calories coming form couscous or white rice. Saucy fish or meat on top. A large platter on the floor with the family around it. Most Senegalese use their right hand to eat, but mine uses large spoons. I’m not sure if this is for my benefit or if they are more modernized than most. The matriarch of the family is responsible for deciding who gets what pieces of veggies or meat by tossing them with her spoon or thumb in your direction. It seems very maternal when my host mom flicks the nicest piece of fish to the part of the platter in front of me. When you finish, you get up and leave, traditionally to make room for someone else.
Senegalese culture is extremely communal. Most of their words directly translate into very endearing terms (i.e. the word for family-MBokk- translates into ‘those with whom I share my things’). One’s family includes your neighbors and friends. There is little appreciation for ‘private property’ within the family. All food is everyone’s food, all clothing is everyone’s clothing. If you are in a house during mealtime, you are expected to eat with them. I have a locked armoire that I must use. My host mom is a 50-something widow with a HUGE house (3 stories) in which she houses her children who do not live in the states. I counted 13 people at the last meal but I’m still learning who is actually related and who is just a friend/neighbor. My host mom’s name is Therese and she goes by Mere Therese (Aka Mother Theresa) She has 3 sons in North America, one in NY, one in Canada, and I couldn’t decipher the name of the third city. There are a few little girls running around who speak to me in Wolof only. They are 2, 3 and 7. There’s a boy who is 5 but I’m not sure if he lives here or not. When I don’t understand or do what they’ve asked, they say it slower or louder. When I still don’t understand they look at me with their eyebrows furrowed, I know they’re thinking, “what a retard!” They really like my things and the smaller ones want me to carry them and play all the time. Pick up a thing, teach me the word. Point at my hand, teach me the word. Occassionally they tell me to do something in French: On y va jouer dans ta chambre! (Let’s go play in your room!) I’m sure my nickname is “the nice retarded girl who will carry you all over the place and let you wear her hats”. I’m not sure how you say that in Wolof.
I really like it here and it's been an easy transition so far. I'll try to post some pictures soon.
It’s nearly midnight and I must wake up early to ride the ‘car rapide’ to the school. Alors, Bonsoir.
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