A family tree

I’ve recently figured out how everyone that lives in this house is related.  I’ll lay it out here:

Anta is the grandmother.  She’s probably in her 70s or 80s and seems to always be home.  She’s an interesting woman.  She prays a lot and doesn’t seem to speak much French.  Adja is Anta’s daughter.  She is my mother figure here.  Her children are Mohammad (20), Mariam (13), and Hardeem (9).  Through a conversation I had with Mohammad, I learned that she is divorced from their father, who lives in a different country now and teaches English.  Adja’s definitely the head of the household.  She is kind, but very intimidating at the same time.  Amadou is one of Anta’s sons (Adja’s brother).  He is also divorced and his kids are Papi (10), Cheikhrouna (6) (pronounced “share-ro-nuh”) and Moustapha (4).  Another of Anta’s sons and his wife also live in the house.  They do not have children and I still don’t know what their names are.  Everyone is very nice!

Yesterday I went up to the rooftop with Papi.  From there you can peak over the side and see into the courtyard of their neighbor’s house.  Apparently this is where their friend Papa lives.  Papi yelled down at Depa and then turned to me and said that he was going to show me his Toubab.  It was pretty funny.  There’s a huge group of students studying at another center like ACI that just moved in with their host families last night, and one of them, Mary Hannah, is living next door.  So that’s pretty cool.

Last night, right before dinner, the electricity went out.  I had given the family headlamps as gifts and they were put to great use.  As soon as the lights went out Amadou started to pray, but he had his headlamp on.  It was just a very odd and comical thing to watch.

Goodnight Gorilla is now a series of single leaf pages, floating around the house.  I found one in the bathroom the other day.

The political situation is not great.  The council decided that Wade (the current president) would be allowed to run for a third term.  I guess protesters stoned a policeman to death a couple of nights ago.  Needless to say, we’re not really supposed to leave our houses all that much.  It’s pretty safe in my neighborhood though, no need to worry everyone!!

Photos

This is the view from my door.  It's a sort of courtyard, but still inside.  Hard to describe.  It's where we eat meals though.

Moustapha!

This is a friend of the boys', Papa (7 years old).  He is very funny and strong.  The boys wrestle all the time and they told me that Papa is good at all sports.

Here's my friend Camille with Hardeem (9), Papi (10), their friend whose name and age I don't know, Papa (7) and Moustapha.  The door behind them leads into my room.

Moustapha and Papi.  Papi's one of my favorites! He was helping me read my French book last night.

Moustapha learns French

It has been requested that I write a bit more about little Moustapha (I’d been spelling it wrong before), and I’m happy to oblige.  As you know, Moustapha (age 4) does not speak French, yet he continues to talk to me in Wolof as though I understand what he’s saying.  That being said, he has picked up on a word or two.  “Asseyez-toi” means “sit down” in French.  My host family has used this with me many a times, usually in the context of sitting down for meals.  Moustapha has astutely figured out that whenever they say this to me, I go where they want me to go.  I don’t think he has grasped the whole meaning though because he says it in reference to everything, even when I’m already sitting.  It’s pretty cute.  He also loves being held, but I don’t think that happens much as kids get older in this culture.  He knows I’m willing to pick him up, so whenever I come home I’m cheerfully greeted by “Maggie, Maggie!” with his adorable little arms outstretched.

I've been trying to upload pictures, but it's just not working.  I'll get them up eventually.

Yesterday we learned about the Senegalese school system.  Here are some statistics: In 1970, only 27% of Senegalese kids were in school.  That number jumped to 54% in 1993 and all the way to 95% in 2011.  Now that’s excellent.  Universal education is something that every country should strive for.  That being said, there’s a real problem.  In primary schools in Senegal, the teacher to student ratio is 1 to 180.  For every 1 teacher, there are 180 students.  Because of a bunch of IMF and World Bank stuff that I don’t really know the details on, there is very little money going to education.  40% of Senegal’s national budget goes to education, but 90% of that is for teacher salaries, leaving only 10% for training, curriculum, books, schools, supplies, CHILDREN!  Most of the teachers in the poorest communities are what are considered “voluntary”.  They are usually university students who are pulled in to teach these classes of 180 in “temporary shelters” they call schools.  It’s just unbelievable.

The professor lecturing on Senegalese schools told us about something that they call “re-birthing”.  He gave us the personal example of his son.  When his son was 6 years old or so, he was not doing well in school and they threatened to kick him out.  His father went to the mayor (or someone in the town with power, I didn’t quite pick up on the exact title) to ask for his son to be re-born.  He slipped the mayor 10,000 CFA, and like that his son was four years younger and could start school from the beginning again.  To this day on all of his papers and documentation, though he was actually born in 1989, it says he was born in 1993.  And naturally, with 4 years on all of the other kids, he’s done just fine in school.

We went to visit a school called “Ecole de la Rue” (Street School) yesterday.  It was created 33 years ago by a man fresh out of university who still teaches there today.  Ecole de la Rue is not recognized by the state and is therefore not funded or supported.   It is in a “shanty town” in one of the poorest neighborhoods of Dakar.  Visiting that school and that neighborhood was unlike anything I’d ever experienced.  It was incredibly emotional, and I’d be more than happy to talk about it in person when I come home, but I’m not sure it will translate well written down.

There's some political unrest right now.  In short, the current president is trying to run for a third time, but it's technically unconstitutional to do so.  It will be decided today or tomorrow if he can run again, so there are some protests and demonstrations around.  I'm not sure if I'll have internet much in the next couple of days, but I should be perfectly safe!

A lesson in Senegalese etiquette

The bowl is placed on a mat on the ground and you’re not supposed to step on the mat with shoes on.

1. Wash your hands before eating (naturally; in my house this is done in a bowl of soapy water, then rinsed in a bowl of “clean” water-after a while, the term clean becomes relative).
3. Only use your right hand to eat.  Your left hand is reserved for other business (related to the lack of toilet paper situation).
4. Wait until the host gives the signal to start eating.  This either means they start eating themselves of they say the Wolof word “bisimilay”, meaning “in the name of God”.
5. You eat from a pie-shaped area directly in front of you, starting from the outside and working in towards the center of the bowl.  This is your “territory.”  Don’t invade other people’s territory.
6. Don’t go right for the meat, fish or vegetables; begin with a handful of rice, then help yourself to what’s in the middle.
7. If the rice it too hot to eat, you say that the “cook must be jealous” (in Wolof of course).  This comes from a scenario of a polygamous family.  Say one wife is getting more attention than the other.  If the one being ignored or treated poorly is cooking, she will make the food extra hot as punishment to her husband.  I guess it’s more of just a saying now.
8. Don’t say how good the food is after the first bite.  It’s as though you did not expect it to be.  Wait until you have almost finished to compliment the cook.
9. Often the host or hostess will distribute pieces of fish, meat, or vegetables.  Otherwise you can help yourself to what’s in the middle of the bowl because it’s considered “common territory.”
10. You should place “one of a kind” items in the middle to allow others easy access.
11. Mix small pieces of fish, meat, or vegetables in with handfuls of rice.
12. Place small bones in front of you on the mat just under the lip of the bowl.  If you find a bone in your mouth, you can take it out with your left hand.
13. Don’t stare at people while they are eating (again, pretty normal)
14. If somebody comes in while you are eating, invite them to join you.  You can invite them again if they deny it the first time.
15. Straighten up the area in the bowl right in front of you when you have finished eating by gently pushing the rice that has stuck to the side of the bowl back into the central pile that remains; this way, if someone comes in late they will find a neat spot to eat from.
16. Lick all the rice off your hand before washing up with soap and water.
17. Get up and leave the bowl when you have finished.  (Easier said than done.  Even if I’m clearly eating, every meal I’m told “mange, mange!” -eat!.  And when I’m done, the say “tu manges pas” or “tu n’aimes pas?” -you don’t eat, you don’t like it?  It’s hard not to let it get to your head, but luckily I learned the word for “I’m full”-suur na.  It’s a magic word.)
18. Don’t step over people on the mat or step over the bowl.

There you have it!  It sounds like a lot to keep track of, but most of it starts to make sense once you start eating around the bowl and it comes pretty naturally.  Lots of learning from experience and observation, more than anything else.

Speaking of food, lunch today was an experience.  It was some sort of bean/rice/spices mixture with meat of some sort.  It tasted vaguely like the smell of farm animals, so that wasn’t the best.  On top of that, there were a couple of eyeballs in the mix, along with something that looked unmistakably like tongue.  NOT COOL.  At one point, one of the men that was eating with us put an eyeball on top of the middle pile and it started to roll into my little territory.  Luckily it stopped before it really became my responsibility, but I was not having it.  And the tongue thing?  Yeah, I don’t even know.  Dinner was great though.  Lentils with potatoes and meat in a really good sauce.  In all the meals I’ve had since being here, there has yet to be a repeat.  Of course, they are all variations of essentially the same thing (rice/noodles, fish/meat, and sauce), but all very different still.  The exception being breakfast of course, which has literally been the same thing every day: ½ a baguette with my choice of butter or chocolate spread, and instant coffee with sugar cubes and powdered milk if I’m so inclined (which I’m really not).  They don’t typically eat fruit with breakfast here like we do at home.  It’s more of a between meal snack or dessert.  There are tons of fruit stands all over the place.  There’s one very close to ACI.  The man working there has been dubbed “fruit man” by the students.  We always go there, and he practices Wolof with us, which is pretty cool.

Apparently there’s a big strike starting tomorrow.  All of the public transportation workers are going on strike, which pretty much shuts down the city.  So, no school tomorrow for the kids, I still have class though.  That’s why we take classes at ACI, they’re pretty much contracted to not go on strike, so we always have class.  Also, the bakers are going on strike I guess.  So maybe breakfast will be different for the next couple of days, who knows.

One last thing for the night: people here are incredibly friendly, to the point of it being weird for Americans.  For example, Camille (a friend on the program) and I walk to and from school the same route at least four times a day.  Yesterday we were on our way back to ACI after lunch when we were stopped by a young man outside his house.  He said hello and grabbed both our hands to shake them, but didn’t really let go (don’t worry, at no point did we ever feel threatened by this man).  He was asking our names and how we were, etc.  He then said that we should come have coffee at his house after school.  Yeahh, sure, see you then dude.  We managed to miss him yesterday and most of today, but as we were walking by after class this evening, I hear my name! He actually remembered my name, which is just weird to me, though I think it’s pretty normal here.  We were already pretty far away, but he was asking us why we hadn’t come over yet.  We said we were late, or whatever, and just kept walking.  This is just perfectly normal behavior here.  Camille explained it best:  It’s so weird for us because not only are we wary of going into a stranger’s house, but we would never invite random people in off of the street.  But here, everyone is family (or is a toubab that might be you ticket to the US, but that’s a different story).

Jamm rekk

Wolof lesson of the day: jamm rekk means "peace only".  It is the response to various questions about where/how/if you have peace.  It's part of the way you greet someone formally.

Here's my address here, just in case!...

Maggie Oliver
s/c ACI Baobab Center
B.P. 5270
Dakar - Fann
Senegal

"Goodnight Gorilla" update: This well loved book now has no front or back cover, and is also missing the first 6 pages or so.

My oldest host brother, Muhammad, is quickly gaining a lot of my respect.  Occasionally, when the youngest boys misbehave and get caught, their mother will hit them or whip them with a cord.  It's really hard to sit back and watch, but I'm not really in a place to say anything about it.  Well, last night, the two little guys had done something bad, but Muhammad was sitting next to the cord.  When my host mom reached for it, he grabbed it and wouldn't let her whip them.  They yelled at each other in Wolof a little bit, but then she gave up.  It was an awkward situation to be in, made only more awkward when Muhammad looked at me and asked "do you want her to hit the children?" (in broken English).  Of course I said no, but again, I'm not hear to change what they do or how they act.  I'm hear to learn about their culture and try to fit in.  It was a very intense moment, and I'm very happy to know that Muhammad is looking out for the kids.

Still loving it here.  The other day we had a session on Senegalese values, beliefs, and assumptions.  It was one of the most interesting experiences of my life.  They have an incredibly strong set of beliefs that they live by.  I’m sure we were only able to scrape the surface, but what we learned is already helping me understand some of the behaviors and customs.  We also had cebujen (cheb-oo-jen) for lunch.  Lunch is the main meal in Senegal.  Everyone comes home between 1 and 3 in the afternoon every day to eat, though Fridays they usually start later because people pray until 2:30.  Ceb is, most simply, rice with vegetables and fish, but there’s more to it.  There’s a bunch of spices (maybe just one though? I don’t really know) and the rice is kind of sticky from a lot of oil (palm oil I believe).  It’s traditionally eaten “around the bowl”, which means we sit on the ground on a mat with a huge bowl of ceb in the middle and eat with our hands.  There are tons of rules and etiquette that I won’t go into now, but if anyone’s interested, I’d be happy to make a new post.  It’s definitely all new to me!

We learned about 7 or so different Senegalese values.  One of them is called Kersa, which is basically a personality trait that includes being timid, humble, polite, and kind.  Related to Kersa is Teggin, which is basically the behavioral aspect of Kersa and how it is acted out.  They also have several values surrounding the importance of family: Mbokk and Njaboot.  They have a saying that goes “Nit, nitay garabam,” which means, “a man is not an island”.  So, with that as a base, I will tell you what I consider to be one of the most interesting things we learned.  There are several very common last names in Senegal: Ndiaye, Diop (my family’s), Sarr, Ly, Wade, and Mbaye for example.  Since the beginning of time apparently (our teacher didn’t seem to know when this started), they have had something that translates as “joking cousinships”.  What this means is that wherever you are in Senegal, if you have one last name and meet someone with the last name in your cousinship, both people automatically make jokes and poke fun at each other.  The rules say that you can’t insult and no one can get mad.  It’s just as if you’re making fun of a friend, even though it may be the first time you meet this person.  It’s like a giant icebreaker that you can play for the rest of your life.  So, for example, the Ndiaye and Diop families are a pair (I guess it’s just common knowledge here).  They say this is one reason why there really has never been civil war in Senegal.  Everyone is family.  It’s unbelievable and I absolutely love it.

Saturday was the start of our first weekend in Dakar, so I had to try to learn a whole new routine.  I’m still not really sure what weekends are all about here, but there’s time to figure that out I suppose.  The group met up at school for our trip to Ile de Goree (Goree Island).  Goree is a small island off the coast of Dakar.  During the Atlantic Slave Trade, it played a key role in determining who really had “control” of the area.  Many of the buildings and homes that are on the island now, once held hundreds of slaves at a time.  They would be held there until they were shipped off and sold, never to return again.  A couple of these houses were turned into museums, like “Maison des Esclaves” in this picture.  There is a lot of history on that island; it was very cool to visit.   It was also pretty touristy there and the venders were persistent, to say the least.  I have several stories about the venders there yesterday, the best of which doesn’t really even involve me.  We were regrouping to catch the ferry back to the mainland as we were approached by a group of young men, around our age that seemed to act as portable cobblers.  Our group was joined on our trip to Goree by two guys doing independent studies at ACI (one from Bainbridge Island that goes to Evergreen and happened to go to LC his freshman year, and one from Norway).  It just so happened that the sole of Nico’s shoe (the guy from Evergreen), was falling off.  These cobblers could spot it from about a mile away it seemed.  One of them immediately pulled out his kit and started gluing Nico’s shoe without him really knowing what to do.  It was pretty hilarious, though I’m not sure that really translates here.  We were cracking up.  The rest of the group sort of floated away from Nico and his new cobbler friends, but we could still hear them.  The venders/cobblers all had these little instruments, shakers of some sort.  They started making beats and Nico and another of the cobblers were rapping.  It was one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.   Our first couple of days here were quite warm, but it’s getting a little colder, in the 60s I think.  The ferry ride to Goree was quite breezy!  It’s funny because everyone here thinks it’s super cold and they wear scarves and hats and get all bundled up. 

Maison des Esclaves-Ile de Goree

Some boats on the beach on Goree

Nico and his cobbler friends

Hannah and Grace with a dog we met on Goree.  It was very sweet and loved the attention. It probably wasn't rabid.

After we got back from Goree we found our way to The International School of Dakar for a little concert we’d heard about from people at ACI.  It turned out to be a benefit concert at the elementary school.  It was a French guy who plays old French music.  It was kind of cool I guess, but it was super weird to be at the school.  There were more white people there than I’ve seen all week.  It was the first time in a while that I wasn’t part of the minority.  The school was very westernized and it felt like we were back in the states.  Very strange.  We ended up leaving early from that because we wanted to see Senegal’s first game in La Coupe d’Afrique (Africa Cup-soccer).  We took our first cabs without guides to get back to ACI!  We felt pretty accomplished.  We walked around a bit until we found a bar that was playing the game.  The bar had a pretty relaxed feeling, which was nice.  It was Senegal vs. Zambia, a good game, but Senegal lost.  We did score one goal though and everyone in the bar went crazy!  It was awesome.  They were jumping around and yelling in Wolof.  Quite an experience.  I hope we get to see more games while were here. 

This afternoon we’re going to see un combat de lutte (wrestling).  Apparently it’s a big deal here, and all of the “lutteurs” come from Senegal.  It’s their thing.  I’ll have to give more details about it when I get back, but I’m excited to see what it’s all about!

So, yeah, we went to watch the lutte and it was insanity.  I don’t think I can even write about it.  It was unlike anything I’d ever seen.  Actually crazy.  I’ll have to tell everyone about it in person.

Also, side note, Senegalese people are perpetually late.  One time we were supposed to have class for two hours, but no one showed up.  Right now, we were supposed to have class a half an hour ago, still waiting.  It's an adjustment.