SENEGAL MEETS RICK

Do you remember the jelly shoes we used to wear?  They were pretty impractical, and invariably left horrendous blisters on our feet, but we wore them anyway. Did you ever wonder what happened to them?  Well, they are ALL in Senegal…every last pair of them.  The funny part is, though, that here it’s men and boys who wear them.  In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen any girls wearing jelly shoes.  If anyone wants a pair, though, let me know.  I can get them for pretty cheap.

Now for the good stuff— ala douche:

Going to the bathroom in Senegal is a treat.   Basically, there is a hole in the ground, and you just go.  No big deal, right? The thing is, there is no wiping here.  What is the “acceptable” thing to do is to pour a bit of water down there and wipe WITH YOUR LEFT HAND.  The right hand is unacceptable.  (In that respect, it’s pretty smart.  That way, you can more easily avoid other people’s “feces-hand”) Side note- hand washing is not the norm here, nor is hand sanitizer.  Needless to say, diseases spread pretty quickly.

Showering happens over the same hole as the toilet hole.  I get a bucket of water from the well, and pour it over me. The whole process uses about 3 gallons of water…makes me feel like a real conservationist.  They are really quite refreshing, and I actually kind of like them.

Meals are fun too.  My home-stay mom (where I live during my training) is an awesome cook, and for the most part, I really like Senegalese food.  All meals are eaten on the ground around a communal bowl.  Depending on the wealth of the family, you might have a spoon.  Otherwise, we use our (right) hands.  Most times, it is a rice or couscous dish with some sort of sauce.  There is somewhat a special tactic to balling up the rice or couscous (something about the ratio of sauce to rice), but I have yet to perfect it.  Hopefully in two years, I’ll be an expert.

So there is this one commercial that makes me laugh every time I see it.  It’s for some kind of msg-type cooking oil, and it portrays the wife cooking dinner for her family.  Not really that weird, but the funny thing is that she’s cooking in what would look like one of our kitchens, with a stove, microwave, oven, etc.  Then she takes the meal to her family who eats at the kitchen table.  No one in Senegal lives like that.  They all eat on the ground, and all meals are usually prepared in a big pot by fire or gas.  I laugh every time I see it, but I don’t really think my family gets the humor in it.

The next funny thing that happens tends to happen to me is marriage proposal.  Men usually ask me to marry them every other day.   Typically, they just want a free ride to America, but I like to think it’s just my awesome personality…yeah right.  Being linguistically impoverished really limits my creative responses, but I usually try to explain to them (in my broken Pulaar) that I’m already married to Barak O’bama or that they don’t have enough money for me. This doesn’t always work.  Many times, they don’t know who Barak is, or they think that I’d be cool with being a 2^nd or 3^rd wife (for anyone wondering—I’m not).   Polygamy is always encouraged here, though, (although, only for the men), and it’s kind of funny how easy it is to become used to it.  Most of my friends have 2 or 3 moms, and now it doesn’t seem so weird to me.

Mosque callings are another thing that should be mentioned.  They happen on a loudspeaker at least 5 times a day, and call everyone to prayer.  The earliest one can be anywhere near 6AM.  They kind of sound like someone’s toes are getting chopped off (Dad, very similar to Lebanese music, but a bit more wailing) It used to drive me crazy, especially when the earliest one would wake me up, and I hated them, but now I can sleep through them.  Also, when I move to my permanent site (mid-May), I won’t have electricity at all, and there won’t be any callings.

I got to go to my permanent site for a night a couple of weeks ago, and I think I’m going to love it.  I saw so many shooting stars, and will be able to sleep outside.  My family there seems a bit nuts, (e.g. two of the first words they taught me were the male and female reproductive parts) but I’m excited to get to know them, and they will definitely prove to be a good source of entertainment.  My village is called Saare Boyli and has around 500 people. It’s in the Tamba region (so middle-ish part of Senegal), and I will live with the chief’s son, Pate, and his family.  One of the children is named after a former volunteer…so no pressure on me to be awesome or anything.