life is a work in progress; see it from behind the scenes

Never have I ever...

Well actually, I have...Yesterday afternoon a big group of us headed downtown right after class to go to the Hotel de Independence where there is a pool on the roof of the 18 story hotel in the middle of downtown.  Immediate problem: the hotel pool is closed for construction, and by the looks of the hotel, they probably shouldn't have a pool on the roof anyway.  So we headed over a few blocks to Sofitel, a really nice hotel on the water and sat at the bar, and everyone ordered drinks, and we waited to go down to the pool in small inconspicuous groups. 

I was in the first group of three, and just after we got changed and were about to lounge away the late afternoon, we got booted.  I'm almost positive there was a woman at the pool who was nosey and told the guy to come ask us if we were staying there.

=we're going back this weekend.      though we'll probably pay for access this time.

On our walk around downtown after getting kicked out of (literally) Dakar's finest hotel, my friend Amanda began talking about a really interesting phenomenon we have all been experiencing.  The constant harassment for being white in an African city: whether it be evry single taxi honking as they pass, children (the ones who don't actually need anything) accosting you on the street to give them something you have because you're an American and "you can just buy a new one", or the ceaseless swarm of people trying to sell you things you repeatedly refuse (and of course the people pretending to hassle you in order to pick your pockets).

All of the tension that this produces finds itself coming back out in a very interesting way.  We unconsciously are drawn to other white people we see on the street. You think: They know what it feels like to be white here too...and they're probably western: they know what it feels like to be adjusting to the culture and landscape here;  they might even speak English!

All of this is uncontrollable, coming from the subconscious, and certainly not a willful act.  It's the exact same thing many of us have seen with African Americans at home, feeling as though they have some sense of connection without knowing one another, a look at one another of understanding what it means to be completely frustrated by your surroundings and bogged down by the culture you trudge through.

weird.

I used my iPod today until it died.

a little dinner talk

last night at dinner, I took the advice from the girl at the Times (if you can think of something to say, just blurt it out, just a stream of words, a noun and a verb, and someone will get your point.  just say SOMETHING)...I was sitting at dinner with one of my brothers Jay and just blurted out a story about the lunch I had that day.  We went to the patisserie that the Canadian had shown me (the heavenly oasis) and I saw a picture of something that looked really good, like a couple of eggs with some kind of meat (I was wishing for bacon), folded up in a crepe.

I pointed to the picture, asked what it was, and ordered it.  The waitress asked how many eggs and I said 2...who knew what this would be...So when they brought out our food, there they were: two fried eggs on a small plate.  that's all.

None of us could understand what happened between the picture and my plate, and I decided to order a sandwich in addition to my 2 eggs (how expensive could 2 eggs be anyways).  I waited and waited and waited for our waitress. 

Finally she emerged from the kitchen, and Kelly, sitting across the booth from me, said 'oh there she is with a tower of bread'

As it turns out, that tower of bread was mine, and also a plate with another 2 eggs, a small slice of tomato, and a single black olive.  The toast: literally 14 pieces (we have pictures), also definitely nothing like the picture.

No idea how this all went down, but thankfully it made a good story at dinner that broke my complete silence at the dinner table of the past week other than basic greetings and asking for help with my wolof homework...

Today I met a guy in the street while I was walking by the Monument de Inedpendence, and he said something to me in French as I was taking a picture (I thought just a harassing comment about me being a tourist).  He then walked alongside me while we were separated by a low metal fence for the rest of the block, talking to me about random things, most of which I couldn't understand.  I told him the area where I'm living and he talked about how there aren't jobs in Senegal, and how he went to school I think to become a mechanic.  He was smiling the whole time, so I generally did too, but I couldn't tell when exactly I was supposed to smile too, or when I should be more serious. 

He talked about George Bush, the Koran, the way things are in Senegal, and even the legend of the Adam's apple. *I've never heard it, so here goes:  When they were eating the fruit in the garden, eve went first and she swallowed the apple, while Adam (must have had an attack of conscious or something) didn't swallow the fruit all the way; he kept it in his throat, hence the adams apple...I was actually glad to have understood this much out of our 30 minute converstation, and he gave me his phone number and told me his name, though it is something related to Islam and impossible to remember...I wish I knew more French to be able to talk to people like this, so outgoing and friendly to talk to a stranger on the street for that long.  I took his picture at the end of our conversation, and though I have his number, I don't think I'll be calling him this trip...

It's a very strange contrast to my experience in Slovakia about how you should respond to situations like this.  Today in class, our teacher told us that it is better to tell someone yes you will do something for them with no intention of following through than giving a straight-up no, because just no with or without an excuse is abrupt and rude.  It's better here to almost jokingly say, yes, sure I'll do that, and whether you do or not it's fine, but at least you were willing to give the option that it would happen.  So so different from Slovakia; one of the things I remember most was the importance placed on your word, that if you tell someone that you will do anything with/for them, they will remember it, and expect you to follow through.  I have adopted this generally, and I really don't like agreeing to something I don't intend to do.  I can play along for while I'm here although I don't really like the idea and I hope not to adopt it in my life after Senegal...

the mosquitos are biting like crazy today; must be the banannas I ate earlier.  good night.

(oh, and while I was writing this, my brother Jay came in and played a Senegalese rap song on iTunes for me to see if I like it like I like American rap.  Not bad, but if I could understand it, I'm sure it would be a little better.  probably the same reason he finds American rap 'ok')

so today, we had a great visit from an awesome freelance photographer named Candace Feit.  Check out her stuff here.  She covers the West African region, working for the NY times and has had her stuff published all over the place.  Her presentation was so interesting and so needed.

She told us that yes, it is indeed very difficult to get a photo in Senegal.  She told us that many times she asks a ton of people before she gets one that will allow her to photograph them, and she told us which photos she had taken only to be immediately yelled at.  If you look at her site, under the 'snapshots' category, there's a picture of a boy bent down by the water; one of my favorites, she said this kid turned around and started screaming at her immediately after the picture.

She reminded us to have fun with our photography and to break the rules of photography when we felt like it.

Also on her site is the day she spent at the koranic schools in Dakar with the Islamic students, packed into their schools.  The talibee, as the students are called, are many of the beggars in the street; they carry tomato cans with wire to hold it on their shoulder and beg from passersby and cars and anyone they see.  Though she insisted you never pay anyone to take their photo, she did say that for this story, she brought a big bag of bisquits for the children to the school, and made sure they were happy with her being there.

My friend Amanda and I talked at lunch after the lecture about the fact that we both really really want to go back to the market and just spend a few hours asking and beggng to take photos.  Sometime soon, I hope.

Interestingly enough, when I asked about how helpful French is to getting good pictures, Candice said that oftentimes, pretending like you don't know any is even a better strategy...Just say hi, point to your camera, give a thumbs up, and say "ok?"...I'll have to try that, and maybe this whole language deficiency thing will be a real asset. ha

Speaking of lunch, the Canadian was right; the patisserie in Point E (our neighborhood) really is an oasis in the middle of Dakar.  They have A/C; they have Coca Cola Light; they have ice (which you're not supposed to use, but we all did today anyway); they have a huge menu, including a pretty good pizza that Amanda and I shared today; and don't even start with the desserts.  wow.  that whole lose weight in Africa thing might not happen...(actually it really probably won't since all we eat is starch and meat--all the more reason for me to come home and be a pseudo vegetarian for a while!)

I got a cell phone today, and it's pretty cool.  Basic, but since my phone hasn't had a screen for the last 5 months, I'm really enjoying this thing.  Almost everyone in the program has one here, so we're able get together and go out at night; I don't think we really know how to plan ahead and arrange going out without instant contact, we've always lived with the convenience(?) of cell phones at home.  Tonight, we're probably going to the same place Natalie and I went the other night.

Good night from the other side of the ocean, and I hope you are all well...

I cheated

I was online and decided to see if WXRY would stream to Africa.

It does.

adjusting

So, it's really, really, really hot here. And though I can speak enough French to get somewhere, argue a fare with the taxi, or buy something, I can't understand a word anyone says back to me.  I think it's pretty telling about how bad or at least lazy of a listener I am...

I've adjusted to a lot of things so far, like sleeping without  a fan and hearing the sheep on the roof at night as well as all the neighbors while I try to go to sleep...I've adjusted to the heat, only in that when it's 80 degrees at night I feel so hapy in jeans, or once I get back from school I sit in the hot breeze and it's incredibly relaxing, I've gotten used to the fact that the only place I've seen grass is at the house that our classroom building ( i think to make it feel more normal for westerners) I've almost gotten used to typing on a french keyboard, which is quite a feat, trust me.

BUT I'd still say I'm not adjusted to being here. I miss home, and even though I have these new friends here, and I'm experienceing incredible things, I just want to get in my car and drive to a store, and sit in air conditioning, and have my computer, and speak english, and have a diet coke (only 1 place has had it so far) with ice.  It's been hard, but I know this is an incredible blessing to be here. And I've picked up reading some, since I can't waste my time talking to anyone, nor can I understand (not that I want to) the static-y tv that shows brazillian soap operas and french cartoons...

I want to take pictures, and I'll have a lot of time for that once my photography professor ges here on the 28th, but as of now, I only have about 5 photos...people get pissed when you takle their picture, and you have to ask permission for each picture...I understand it, but I certainly didn't  expect it.  Last night i sat on the roof of our house and watched the traffic drive by, and I read one of the guide books my sister gave me for my birthday.  Spot on.  There's basic Wolof in the book; I've lerned it. There's descriptions of the taxis; I've done it on my own.  There's the warning about photogrphy--asking first; I've learned that already.

I'm adjusting, but I have to ermind myself about how far I've come to keep myself sane.  It certainly was not as easy as I expected, but hey it's AFRICA. I'm here and I'm able to survive! I can get around, I can get in touch with home and I can be self sufficient, or I can be with my new family here.

If you're feeling adventurous, you should try to make Yassa Poulet (chicken with onion sauce). It's SO good, though I suggest using lime juice rather than the lemon juice suggested here...It's a recipe for a big portion of it, so I think you could cut it down a lot smaller, but you should try it. Live a little of the West African life.

http://www.congocookbook.com/chicken_recipes/poulet_yassa.html

The other night (Friday I guess) was a really great time for me, and it meant that I feel a lot more comfortable and in control here.  A girl from my class-Natalie--and I ran in to each other while I was lost looking for the internet cafe...She showed me where I was, and then we agreed to meet up later on that night at 10:30. I made my way back to the Shell station where we were going to meet, and I had found out from the Canadian that the musicians that live/hang out on the roof were playing downtown somewhere that night...Natalie showed up and had a box of tissues she had just bought and told me she was just going to go to bed because she'd had a cold and it got much worse that afternoon.  I'm not really the kind of person who goes to a bar by myself, so I asked her if she had not been sick, would she have been up for going downtown to hear them play.  She got excited and told me, yeah she would go, and let's go now. So we did.

We took a taxi from where we live to downtown and walked around for a while because the concert wasn't starting until after 11.  We walked to the hotel where the Canadian had gotten her map, and we picked one up for Natalie. The hotel is at the edge of the plateau (downtown) and we walked down the hill to where there are beaches.  I got to see the ocean!  I'd been here a week, in this peninsula city and had still not seen the ocean.  I've seen the Atlantic from Africa!

After that excitement, we went back to the bar where they were playing and it was so much fun. Their band has a djimbe, a drummer, a keyboard, a bass, and a singer.  They were really good, and we watched this crazy huge woman dance for at least an hour.  She would booty dance up on the djimbe player (my house brother Malik) and she pulled the mic from the singer and helped sing one of the songs.  The amount of control this woman had over her body was incredible, let alone her size.  It was awesome.

We made it home just fine, even though our taxi driver was a swindler, but I learned my lesson from that...It was a great night and like I said, it made me feel much more in control and able to function in this incredibly intense place.

-off to finish my book (Velvet Elvis--you should pick it up) and find something to eat for lunch...I'm either going to meet back up with people from my class or just go to the beach...We'll see.

i want to show you the market...

I want so badly to show you the market, but I can't yet.  First of all, it's surprisingly hard to take pictures here because everyone is very offended and feels exploited when you take their picture without first asking permission.  I think it's seen as a new way to look down on someone; take a picture of the charity case to show off to all your friends back home...

Anyways, the market was the most overpowering experience of a couple days ago, when I wanted to tell you about it...The stalls are endless and at times don't even follow lines; literally there is a 2-foot aisle and there are people stopped buying things on both sides and people still trying to walk towards you.  I took our academic director's advice and kept my wallet in my bag and kept my bag in front of me.  You could say I got felt up quite a few times that day, people looking for a quick stash of money in my back pocket.  It's a hard habit to break, keeping your wallet in your back pocket.

We went through row after row of fresh vegetables and fruits; fish and meat; homemade juices; fabrics; shoe makers, and more.

We didn't talk.

We couldn't.

After a while, I finally started greeting one of every 15 people we passed.  They were stunned. 

Asalaa maalekum!

Heads would turn, and follow us as they gave the response, "Maalekum salaam..."

I truly cannot fully describe how overwhelming that experience was, nor can I tell you how incredibly gratifying and satisfying and fulfilling it was.  No speaking required. Nothing to buy. Just watching and listening, being touched on all sides by people, all doing something else, all surprised to see me and my 2 group members with me, pushing through the market.

I am most certainly going back, and I will take pictures in the most respectable way possible.  I want you to see it.

(by the way, this is my second post just now; read the other one below too...)

Where, oh where to begin...

This is the first time I've gotten to use the internet in a couple of days and I had so much I wanted to share with you all since the last time i was in the comfort of my cyber cafe a block from our hotel...

I am now in a crowded cyber cafe that I passed twice today while looking for one in particular.  It is hot, I'm hot, but there is a fan.  There is a miraculous oscillating fan mounted to the wall and I'm so releived to be here right now.

The classes we have been taking are incredibly exhausting and I have no idea what anyone--especially in the classes-- is saying.  Strangely enough, I fell pretty comfortable walking around the school and around my neighborhood, and the mile or so inbetween.  So about the house, let's get started:

I got picked up yesterday by the family's driver, Mambo. *I think that's his name.  I can never remember it because it sounds like it just couldn't be true.  Anyways, I get to my house and there's a big yellow gate that leads to a courtyard, and my yayi or bé (mother) is waiting outside my room to show me around. (I'd also like to take a minute to applaud them for picking me up at 4 PM on the dot. it seems like nothing else here runs on much of a schedule--both early and late)  So the house is 3 stories with a room on the roof too.  I live on the second floor in my own room that opens out to this courtyard area and I have my own key to my room and to the gate.  I have a room with an old spring mattress, a small desk, and somewhere to put my clothes.  There is this great chair right outside my room, a piece of an old couch they had in the salon before their current furniture, and it is one of my favorite places to be on this entire trip.  There is a constant breeze flowing by from the hallway to the porch on the street and it pours into the courtyard.  I spent 2 or 3 hours just sitting there yesterday, reading Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell.  It was incredible. 

During the tour of the house, I quickly learned that this is a boarding house when I met a Canadian woman staying there now also. 

Literally, and totally seriously, this could be the closest thing to a miracle on this trip yet. 

I had been so stressed about the fact that I still can't understand anyone who lives here.  Even though everyone is nice and welcoming and I have one of if not the best setups on the trip, I was still really not looking forward to the awkward time of meeting these new people.  Some of the people who can really speak French got in tight with their families really fast and they seemed quite friendly with their sibblings, but I expected to be in a house alone with an old woman and her husband.

My new Canadian friend Natia has been living here for 3 months and leaves July 1st.  So, I asked her eveything I could ever want to know about Dakar, the family, how things work, where we are, and everything.  She gave me a proper map of the city, which we spent HOURS trying to find.  Trust me, nobody else out of my group has a real map.  She told me where the good vegetable stand was, and she taught me to make a salad for dinner if I wanted anything other than heavy meat and starch most nights.  She showed me the internet cafe, the patisserie (which she called a little oasis in the middle of the neighborhood--totally true by the way), and a shop where you can buy REAL coffee and icecream. 

After dinner, which is at 9pm most nights, we went out to a concert at the cultural center nearby.  The whole thing was quite bizzare.  I'm pretty sure every performer was lip syncing except for maybe their introduction and the last few lines.  Even the rappers who weren't dancing or anything.  I also heard a group doing a cover of Akon's "Smack That" from the porch outside my room earlier.

I hope to meet and get to know the younger people who live there/spend all their time there.  One of the family's sons--Londain--is a drummer and he is currently in Norway recording for someone.  One of his friends/bandmates Kelz has a room on the roof and there's this really cool guy Malik who is literally always there according to Natia.  He says hi and waves every time he went up the stair while I was reading, in a cool way, the way that makes you want to be his friend because you can tell he's someone fun.

I plan to use my Canadian girl, as I call her to my friends here, to help me get to know the family, learn who can speak English, and get to know what's really going on around town, how to take a taxi, and how to take the car-rapide.  Just to give you a glimpse into how hard it is to adjust here, the taxis do not have meters.  After flagging down a taxi, you tell them where you want to go and negotiate a price.  Then they start going where they think you need to be, but even they usually don't know where they're going.  It's happened multiple times to people in my group that their cab driver asks people on the street where to go and eventually stops and tells them to get out.  Cool.

I don't think I'll ever be scared to travel ANYWHERE western again after this experience.  Plop me down in Poland today and give me a tiny dictionary, and I'd possibly kiss the ground.

The last thought I have for you today is the fact that my familly has sheep.  And when you hear that, you think I'll have a yard.  As it turns out, like straight out of an Arabian nights cartoon or something, they live on the roof in a pen next to the music guy's practice room. 

Oh, and by the way, I still haven't used my iPod!

each day is a freak out and struggle and nervous wreck kind of thing and then it all works out and i end up here at the cafe above the gas station that plays 1 of 3 songs in english...almost as comfortable as home. we went downtown today and it was incredible, overwhelming, terrifying, crowded, exhausting, exciting, and too much for words. and during discussion/debriefing, we could only use one word to describe our experience. i think i said stressful. that's not the lasting impression of the day though. i'll blog about this later (and probably copy this haha). like i said today, everything is good at the end of the day; and it's going to be great

i'm so happy to be here, but panicked for a new reason every day.  i haven't used my ipod yet, including the airplane here...i guess i'm saving it for an 'emergency' because i keep it in my bag with me all the time, but i'm planning on not using it for a while more...you can probably picture me curled up in the fetal position in a corner somewhere with my ipod on...we'll leave that for week 2 or 4 i hope.

i guess i'll write tomorrow...i think we're getting kicked out of the internet cafe.

a little catching up

I'm not quite sure what I've been leaving out of my stories because it's so hard to be on the clock for time on the internet...it really makes you aware of exactly how long you spend online. Trust me, the 1 dollar hours fly by!

I'm going to write about what happened today in another post after dinner, so for now I want to leave you with the amazing quote the airplane captain said to us as we stopped in Dakar...

"may you have a good journey home or else to your destiny."

a little more inclusive than most polite airplane conversation, but a nice sentiment nonetheless.

host...family?

so this afternoon, we met our host families and i'll readily admit i was really really nervous.  like i've said before, french is a very hard thing to jump into at all...not quite sure what i thought a homestay would be like exactly, but needing french all the time is really really hard.  it feels like we've been here weeks.

the woman i will be living with this summer is retired, as is her husband.  she has 11 children, but none of them live at home.  she speaks french and just a word of english here and there, so it's pretty rediculously hard for me to meet her and come up with something interesting to say.  we probably spent 30 minutes together today and i think i exhausted my entire french vocabulary.  i brought out my photo book of my family and friends--the BEST thing i could have had for a time like this.  I can't thank Kim enough for that present and idea!! The good thing is that one of the women who works with the program lives next door.  it turns out she's my sister-in-law for the homestay, she's married to my homestay mother's son, i presume...Her name is Amy and she has 3 children, 6, 8, and 12 years old...I think I'll spend some time with them, ask to go to the market with them, and go out at night with some other people from the program. 

there's one other person who is also terrible with french, and i think i may have picked up a little more than her now, although i still have an incredibly hard time listening to french, and the Wolof we are all learning isn't very easy either.

Everyone on the trip has been really amazing so far and we're rediculously diverse...I already have someone lined up to read my copy of Velvet Elvis once I'm done with it; i'll probably give her Blue Like Jazz soon.

Everything is much more natural even though it's only hours between posts; it feels like we've been here weeks, and its only the second day. i guess that means progress. and each little freak out seems so much less important a day later.

tomorrow morning we have 'the drop off': we're going to be given some money and we're headed downtown in taxis on our own to explore or find something whatever.  i think once i've been downtown i'll have a much better understanding of the city and how it's layed out; it's weird though because once we live with our families we are part of the family, somewhat not supposed to go out at night ?!  anyways, i think my family will be chill about everything because some of their children live in Europe and they don't have anyone in the house that i could disturb coming in late.  It don't know what to expect about their house...some people are supposedly in really sweet places, and i do know that my family is sending a driver thursday to pick me up; i think his name is bongo or something like that.

i haven't even listened to my music the whole time i've been here.  i keep thinking i'll run down the charge on it and not be able to recharge it for when i really 'need' it, although here i sit with a computer at my feet for a while each day (at a gas station of all places!)

the taxis are really bizarre here: they all have broken meters and you have to bargain with them or get screwed...that should be interesting without speaking french...i'll be sure to get in a cab with someone with a moderate french level in the morning...*

à demain!