Journal entry from 2/11/07

I spoke with my mother yesterday and apparently I have forgotten to write about a lot of interesting stuff. I am so engulfed in this culture that I don’t even really notice when things are strange.

First of all, my village is far from starving…in the literal sense. Food for the Senegalese is a very important part of their life and they eat a ton of it. As a guest in people’s house I am constantly pestered to “mange,” “mange” – this means “eat, eat.” I hear these words in my sleep now.

The Senegalese do not drink during the meal as they don’t want their stomachs to fill up. They do not speak much during a meal, their concentration on one thing…eating. They eat quickly and a lot at once. I have absolutely no idea how these people remain so skinny considering the amount of food that they intake everyday. However, the Senegalese never eat dessert. Adults rarely eat sugar for that matter except in their coffee. Unlike the adults, kids relish their bon-bons and chocolates that they buy at the local boutique.

Speaking of coffee, I finally succumbed to buy a water heater but my first attempt at making coffee failed miserably. Every time I plugged in my water heater the electricity turned off. I have no idea how I am going to rectify this problem but hopefully Bamba will think of something.

Senegal is a very communal place. In my apartment building everyone keeps their door open (with a lace curtain like material hanging in the place of a door.) People are in and out of one another’s apartments as if it was their own. I haven’t really gotten used to this concept as I relish my privacy. Even though I almost always have a guest, I keep my apartment door closed and the door to my balcony wide open. It’s nice to have the natural sunlight.

In regards to having guests…people just “drop by” in Senegal. Everyone from my mentor to Bamba to my students. My students have taken to dropping by often…

In addition, everyday on my way home from school I am accompanied by about 5-10 students – my entourage. They insist on carrying my backpack and anything else I might be holding. I am not used to being surrounded by children but I am really enjoying their company and their innocence. It is also nice to walk around Grand-Yoff and know people everywhere I go. I hear children saying “Miss Brooke” and/or “Teacher” while walking around almost everyday.

I finally got around to going to a “boite” (nightclub) on Friday night. I had a great time dancing until 4 in the morning. We went for pizza afterwards; It was just like New York. We went to the beach all day on Saturday. It was a private beach about one half an hour from my apartment. I spent the entire day under the umbrella reading. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect way to spend my time.

Journal From 2/8

It gets harder and harder for me to write these journal entries. First of all, I am not much of a writer – in the personal sense. In addition, I have less and less observations; I believe that I am almost completely acclimated to the life here in beautiful Senegal. I even managed to haggle my way to a low price from the taxi-man(as they call them) last night for my ride into Dakar. Supposedly that is the tell-tale sign that I am a Senegalese.

Two nights ago I went with my friend Chere to an artist community to check out some artwork and talk to the artists about a “project.” I am not sure if Chere told me about his idea for the “project” before we arrived because when everyone starting discussing it, I had no idea what they were talking about. I have a tendency to nod in comprehension when I am not always paying attention. Anyway, the project involves bringing together my students with the artists for a cultural experience. However, the idea for the project is fantastic and I am meeting with the artists this weekend to discuss logistics.

Journal From 2/4/07

So, I finally met the other Senecorps girl, Sally. Sally is working at a maternity ward, for her this is one stop before medical school. Sally has a great spirit.

Last night Bamba #2 organized a traditional African dance with his entire neighborhood – about 200 guests came in our honor. I can’t begin to explain how crazy the dancing was and how hard for a white person it is to move like these people. However, since the dance was organized for Sally and me – we danced hard.

How it works is that everyone sits and/or stands in a massive circle. About 10 drummers sit together on one end of the circle creating extremely fast beats. When someone feels “it” they skip into the circle and begin dancing kicking their legs high into the air spreading sand as they jump around.

Dancing in this circle (twice) was probably one of the most embarrassing things I have ever done. Bamba#1 happened to catch the whole thing on film, however, the last thing I am going to do is watch this video. Hopefully they won’t post it on the Senecorps website.

At around 1pm, we went to town to attend the concert. This time the concert was held in a nightclub in downtown Dakar. At around 3pm, Sally and I were dragging so we decided to hit the sack back in Grand-Yoff.

Journal From 2/3/07

Currently I am at my friend Cheikh’s (pronounced Chere) house in an attempt to have my computer fixed. Although it isn’t exactly broken, the fact that I am unable to connect it to the internet is causing me much grief and emotional energy…

Last night we went to a killer rap concert. Bamba manages one of the groups that performed so we hung out backstage – met all sorts of cool people. And, I finally met a tubop, he is Suisse. I am not sure yet how long he has been in Senegal but he appears to have found his way in this country. Similar to me, we are chilling like locals. We met eyes and almost humorously quick, I started up a conversation. I was relieved to find a white friend – if only someone to share my experience with....We are hanging tonight at another concert.

Nico (from Nicolie sp?) called me today, most likely to talk about tonight. Unfortunately the conversation consisted of me saying “what?, I can’t understand, what?” Talking on the phone is hilarious because I cannot understand a word that people say to me. For example, Nico speaks French and a little English. For me, visa versa. It makes for a difficult phone conversation. My new tactic is to tell people to send me a text message. Text messaging is the best invention ever for non-fluent speaking people.

Journal Entry From 2/1

Today was my first day teaching at the school –“College Damal,” and I just woke up from a very necessary nap. I created a lesson plan for all the levels that I barely began. First of all – I must say the children in the United States have it really good.

My youngest students are 5. Before beginning to teach them anything, it is necessary that they overcome their fear of me. These are the same age children that say “Tubop” = “white” when I am walking down the street. I hear allll the time, “tubop, tubop, tubop.” With that said, these children are not used to seeing a white person let alone being close to one. I have a hard time keeping their attention because they are so busy staring at me. You know how children are….

I was surprised at how little the children know in terms of basic English. So, I am starting from scratch and pounding numbers and “my name is” into their head until they are saying it in their sleep. As an incentive, I have brought stickers to the class.

I find that I am not afraid of this project. Yes it’s frustrating because of the lack of resources but I was glad to find that I am not afraid of standing in front of the children and speaking French and/or disciplining the children.

Something that is also humorous is the amount of invitations I get everyday whether it be students or friends of my friends, it appears that everyone wants to bring me home to their family. I receive so many invitations that I don’t even know how to handle my own schedule.

Second Entry – From 1/29

Second Entry – 1/29

I thought this might be an opportune time to write my next journal entry for two reasons:
#1 I am awake (at 1:00am) from taking a cold shower (washing hair and all).

#2 It is a holiday today so the children are drumming in the streets – this will probably last until around 300a.m.

I went to the market today in Dakar to purchase some necessary items. It was an absolute madhouse. All I can say is thank god I had Bamba #1 and Conior (a friend of Senecorps) with me. I was hassled everywhere. It is a common assumption that white person = money. So, having two locals with me to bargain prices was absolutely essential. Hopefully once I have a grasp of the language I will be able to bargain myself.

The majority of my purchases were gifts. Gift giving is commonplace in Senegal, especially as a foreigner who is welcomed into the homes of strangers day after day. Most of the time before attending a meal at someone’s house, I pick up a bottle of Coca-Cola and Fantail at a local boutique in order to contribute to the meal. In addition to the gifts I purchased today, I have promised my green cap to a friend who is leaving for another village next Sunday and I gave my Nike watch to my best African friend, guide, and savior – Bamba Diop (Bamba #1.)

After dinner tonight, we went to Bamba #2s house to hang out with my new family. The house was chaotic as Bamba's children were all dressed up for the holiday, wrecking havoc outside the house on the street. It is an Islamic holiday (I will return with the correct name) – essentially the Muslim calendar new year. The children walk through the streets – boys dressed like girls and visa versa – drumming and dancing all night long.

Brooke: English Teacher Intern

My Email: bhalenza@hotmail.com

I arrived at the airport at 6am. I was greeted by two members of Senecorps – Bamba Diop and Bamba Seydi. Immediately, I renamed them Bamba #1 and Bamba #2 (in no particular order of course.) To any foreigner, the Bambas appear to be my bodyguards in the way that they watch over me and make sure I don’t get hit by the RAPIDE (the local bus driven by crazy people. One quickly learns that the RAPIDE always has the right away.)

I was taken to my apartment in Grand-Yoff to take a quick nap. It was important because my day was full of activity. Grand-Yoff is a very lively town (as are all Senegalese towns so far) – goats roaming, babies playing on the side of the road in the dirt (yes, the roads are not paved in my town,) women walking in beautiful costumes carrying jugs on their heads, people working on various crafts outside, children screaming… If you want to know where I live in Grand-Yoff, I would not be able to tell you considering that the streets are not named (stay tuned because I do have a mailing address at another address,) except for the main street that is named after the first priest in Senegal. So far, I have been using landmarks as my guide.

After napping, the Bambas came to my apartment to pick me up. We walked around the town – and finally made our way to Bamba #2’s house where I met his entire extended family - around 15 -20 people, his goats, his neighbors that take care of the goats, the man at the boutique (who is a Rastafarian and seems to have a strange fascination with me,) and the roaming dog. Since I did not, and still barely do speak Wolof it was extremely difficult to communicate as they did not speak good French. Fortunately, Bambas mother and wife agreed that I had a genuine smile. That was enough for me.

After leaving Bamba #2’s house, we walked around town for awhile. The Bambas insisted that I eat something considering it had been awhile since my last meal. They bought an orange for me on the street. There is NO getting around joining the culture and eating street food, drinking coffee from street vendors, etc. The rest of my meals I ate at different homes with different families (with my hands.) Fortunately, my stomach has been 100% so far but I know that one of these days, I will not be so fortunate. Not being a pessimist, just a realist.

So, I am doing very well. The Bambas have given me a new Senegalese name – Bintu Seydi – Bamba#2 will use only this name now and has consistently called me by this name. Also, when I meet people in the street (which is inevitable when walking around) I call myself Bintu because it is easier for people to understand and pronounce. It is strange answering to something other than Brooke. However, I am now part of the family –

I have taken two Wolof classes so I can basically greet people and ask them a few questions. So far I have been speaking a combination of pathetic Wolof, broken French and English. In one single sentence, I use words in all languages (at least an attempt at Wolof.)

I ate dinner at Bamba #2’s house last night (Bamba #1 was there as well – he is with me always) – his family was soooo nice and the food was good. After dinner I played football with all the children – I had brought them a nerf football as a gift. Bamba’s daughter asked me in a whisper if I wanted to be her friend and I said yes.

After dinner, Bamba #1 took me to a local reggae concert. It was amazing - Again, I was the only white person to be seen but I am used to that by now. When I walk down the street day or night, everyone looks – the children call me “tu-bop” over and over. It means “white.” I hear it everywhere.