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.