The Bittersweet End - Closing out my Peace Corps Service

Sitting down to write this last story about wrapping up my service in Senegal was hard for many reasons.  Primarily, my last few weeks at site were busy with tying up loose ends, packing and giving away a bunch of stuff I’d accumulated, introducing my replacement to his new home and projects, and making my rounds to say goodbye.  That was followed by a week in Dakar doing all of the administrative things necessary to end a government job.  Six other volunteers were doing this at the same time and a handful of others came in to bid us farewell, so there have been a plethora of social activities this week as well.  Unfortunately, all of this running around and communal living has taken its toll, so I’ll be boarding my flight this evening with a lovely chest cold, as well as several other minor bacterial infections that were identified in my last medical exam.   I consider this nice little going away present.  Merci, Senegal.  Things could be worse; there’s a letter I’m bringing to my doctor back home that was included with all of the final paperwork I received from Peace Corps that outlines of all of the nasty things that I could have caught while here.  Oh joy!  Let’s all cross our collective fingers in hopes that none of these pop up after my return.

If the volunteer should present herself for treatment, please be aware that the following diseases are endemic in Senegal:

·         Malaria-falciparum, ovale, vivax

·         Tropical eosinophilia

·         Infectious hepatitis

·         Intestinal parasites (such as Shistosoma, hematobium and S. mansoni, Ancylostoma, Stongyloma, Ascaris, Trichiura, Taenia, Entamoeba, Histolytica, Giardia lamblia)

·         Tuberculosis

·         Yaws

·         Leprosy

·         Typhoid Fever

·         Poliomyelitis

·         Yellow Fever, Dengue Fever, and other Arbovirus diseases

Blister beetle burns - ouch!

Infections aside, as I look back on my two years of service, I'm happy with my accomplishments.  I’ve done work that I can be proud of, left a lasting impression on many people, and experienced remarkable personal growth.  Some amazing people have entered my life and many existing relationships have been strengthened.  My ability to stay connected while I was here was an unexpected blessing and I am thankful to have received so much support and encouragement during this journey.

Baol Environment board members wishing me farewell

Leaving site was a bit more difficult than I had imagined.  Three months ago, when we had our official Close of Service conference, I felt like I already had one foot out the door.  I’d been researching housing, school, and work options back home and I was mentally ready to leave.  As the time drew nearer, however, I really started to drag my feet.  Uprooting your life is never easy, even if you know you're going home.  Luckily, I was involved with training the new group of volunteers who will be replacing many of us at our sites and this kept me busy until the very last week.  During this time, my neighbors and friends stopped by to say goodbye which often turned into lengthy visits.  Some of my favorite students, who didn’t want our lessons to end, made frequent appearances just to hang out.  Packing was a production, mostly because I left a lot of things behind and these had to be distributed with great care so that no one felt left out.  I ended up giving all of the clothes I left behind to the family that I’d eaten lunch with my first year in Diourbel.  I felt a tad guilty, as I didn’t have any clothes for the many boys in the family, but that guilt soon passed when I saw one of their teenage sons walking down the street in my purple cargo pants.  I wish I’d taken a picture because they looked really cute on him.

Marame Gueye sorting through my clothes

Last photo-op with Ibou

Last Friday, I joined a group of friends at a local bar near the University of Dakar to watch the Opening Ceremony of the Olympics.  I come from a family of non-sporty types who can go two years without watching any sports on TV, but when it comes to the Olympics, we're glued to the tube. I was really excited to be in the capital this last week so I could see some of the coverage.  It was fun to sit amongst such an international crowd, especially during the parade of athletes.  People cheered for all of the West African nations but when the Senegal team hit the track in their bright yellow boubous, the place erupted with excitement.  The same held true when the U.S. team entered the scene.  This camaraderie bring people together in a way that you only see when living abroad. Within our Peace Corps community, we have many people with allegiances to other countries and/or dual citizenship, so there was a rolling celebration as the teams rounded the track.

Team Senegal hits the track

Alex cheers for her homeland - Poland

The Opening Ceremonies

Team USA

I’m looking forward to spending some quality face time with friends and family over the next few months as I settle back into the swing of things.  Hopefully no one in the fast lane will run me over before I get a chance to acclimate to the speed of America.  After a week in the DC area, I’ll be returning to Charlottesville to begin anew.  I’ve rented a cute little house downtown and have enrolled in a Non-Profit Management certificate program at UVA.  I’m excited to get involved with many of the socially conscious organizations that have sprung up in Charlottesville since I left in 2010, most notably The CvilleTime Bank and the Charlottesville Cash Mob.  I’m also looking forward to joining the board of Better World Betty, a non-profit organization that serves as a resource for sustainable living.  We'll be working together to review and refine their mission, goals, and projects  There’s a lot of good stuff happening back home and Charlottesville is filled with some amazing people!

Speaking of amazing people, my friends at Brothers Cycling for the World who helped fund a village garden project that I worked on with Baol Environment have recently posted an article I wrote on their website:  http://brotherscycling.com/web/2012/06/celebrating-world-environment-day-baol-environment/

So, in less than 12 hours I'll be boarding my plane to fly home.  I leave behind many friends and co-workers who I'll miss dearly, but I have faith that many of our paths will cross again.  I take with me a belief that one person can make difference in the lives of others and a new-found courage that will make entering this next phase of life a little easier.

BAM!

L'Education Mondiale - A Tale of Two Classrooms

The week I found out I was being sent to Francophone West Africa for my Peace Corps service, as opposed to Spanish-speaking Latin America for which I'd spent the previous year preparing, I freaked out and asked my friend Maryline if she would give me an afternoon refresher in French.  It had been 20 years since I’d been in a French class and since I’d been taking Spanish classes for my supposed departure to Central or South America I was a little rusty, to say the least.  Maryline is a native of France who married a friend of mine and moved the Batesville over a decade ago.  She’s the head of the French program at the Peabody School where she teaches French to elementary and middle school kids.  In looking through my pre-service paperwork,  I noticed a pamphlet explaining World Wise Schools, a correspondence match program started by former Peace Corps Director, Paul Coverdell, as a means to connect Peace Corps Volunteers with classrooms back home.  I asked Maryline if she would partner with me and she said, “Bien sûr!”, thus beginning a two year correspondence with Madame Meyer and her 6^th, 7^th, and 8^th grade French classes.

We started writing to each other soon after I installed at my site in Diourbel.  The first letter I wrote was edited by my French tutor before I mailed it.  She red-penned it so much that I had to re-write the whole thing before sending it.  The kids wrote back with a series of questions for me to answer, which I did, one by one.  The delay in response time was quickly frustrating on both sides of the ocean.  I’d send a letter then wait 2-3 weeks for it to arrive.  Then they'd draft a response and it would take over a month to reach me.  Madame Meyer and I decided to try Skype instead.  That was much more fun, but it didn’t allow me the luxury of someone else proofreading my comments before they came tumbling, grammatically incorrect, out of my mouth.   Thankfully, our French was at a similar level, so we all stumbled along together and Madame Meyer was very patient with all of us.  Although Skype was more gratifying than waiting for international snail mail, it did pose its own problems.  The sound and/or video quality were often lacking and because I struggled with electricity problems the first year and a half I lived here, I couldn’t always guarantee I’d be at the other end of the line.  We’d schedule a call well in advance and then when the day arrived, I’d sit down at my desk, open my Skype account and the electricity would go off.  For some reason, this often happened minutes before the call and then would stay off for hours.   This was a big problem for us (and for me, in general) until about 6 months ago when the election season started and the electricity has magically stayed on for days and weeks at a time.  Regardless of our delays and interruptions, we continued to schedule and reschedule calls on a regular basis.  On occasion, we’d still send care packages or notes to one another through traditional means. I sent them Senegalese souvenirs and postcards and they sent me snacks and mementos from home.  This was surely a win-win situation.

 

 

Last October, I visited the kids at school while I was home on vacation.  We organized a school-wide assembly and I gave a presentation (decked out in traditional Senegalese garb, no less) on what it’s like to live in Africa and to be in the Peace Corps.  The 6^th grade French students sang a song I taught them in French, Wolof, and English.  Everyone was so impressed.  After the assembly, Madame Meyer got the kids excused from whatever classes they had and we gathered together for a live correspondence session. I was thrilled to see the bulletin board they’d created with all of the letters, post cards, and pictures I’d sent.

 

 

 

This week, we had our last calls of the year.  I sent back traditional leather and cowrie shell necklaces for them, as well as a certificate for completing the correspondence program with me.  Collectively, our French has improved dramatically and because I’ve been a constant presence throughout two school years, they’re no longer shy about coming up with questions or speaking to me in French.  At the last call for each of the three classes, I asked them a few final questions, including what was the most interesting thing they learned about Senegal.  Their responses varied, but among the most common were:

• The tale of the griots (village singers) being buried in the hollow of the baobab tree
• The explanation of the seasons (or lack thereof) in Senegal, basically we have the Hot and Rainy Season, the Hot and Dry Season, and the REALLY HOT and Dry Season (I'm experiencing the latter right now).
• Senegalese salutations and greeting
• Differences in food, food etiquette, and agricultural product
• The politics of our recent Presidential elections

I also asked them if they might consider joining the Peace Corps after they finish college.  To my surprise, most of them were pretty sure they’d look for a job right away instead.  They seemed pretty driven to start earning money, but maybe I scared them away with tales of the heat.  Regardless, I'm not sure why this was so surprising to me; finding a job straight out of college was exactly what I did.  Maybe I was just hoping I’d instilled a taste for adventure in them, or maybe I was just regretting not joining the Peace Corps earlier, myself.  The good news is that they all indicated that they planned to continue with their French studies.  I can’t emphasize enough how important it is for all of us to be able to communicate in another language.  People here in Senegal often speak 3 or 4 languages (Wolof, French, and one or two other ethnic dialects), not perfectly, but at least they can get their message across to a wide group of people.

Back on this side of the Atlantic, I’ve also befriended a local school, Algor Dioum Primary, affectionately referred to as “Al Gore”.  This school enrolled 10 of its students into our Eco-Ecole program last year and its Director, Moussa Diallo, is a member of Baol Environment, my partner association.  Of all of the schools we work with, this one and its students are the most engaged.  With the exception of Friday prayer and Muslim holidays, Director Diallo is almost always decked out in western clothing:  a suit or polo shirts and dress pants on weekdays and soccer jerseys and baseball caps on weekends.  His attire is indicative of his work ethic.  Moussa runs a mile-a-minute.  He’s always late to meetings, and not for the typical Senegalese reason of “just being late”, but because he’s usually just left another meeting.

Last year he approached me about helping him apply for a grant to improve the latrines at his school.  I told him I’d be happy to help and went to check out the situation.  He wanted to extend an internal wall that divided the boys’ side from the girls’ side.  When I went in the small outbuilding which housed the latrines to take some measurements and pictures, frankly, I was appalled that this was all he wanted to fix.  There were several stalls on either side of the existing divider that contained typical Turkish toilets (porcelain in-ground bowls with foot treads and a mounted tank on the wall above).  Unfortunately, all of the tanks were out of order and there was no back-up water system in the building.  Because these toilets are a little “fancier” than the standard hole in the ground that many kids may have at home, not everyone was sure how to use them, thus there was feces  piled throughout the stalls—in the bowl and out—and no means to wash it down the drain.  The closest water source was communal sink situated a few yards outside of the latrine, but it was not functioning either.  Because the school can’t afford a night guard, thieves have come repeatedly to steal the spigots off the faucets.  The whole situation was really quite dreadful.  I asked the Director if he thought fixing this bigger problem was more important that extending the wall and he agreed that it was, but felt hopeless they’d ever find the money to take it on.  Keeping the boys out of the girls’ latrine (and vice versa) seemed more pressing to him and was a manageable task to complete with the money that we had available to us.  I left with the measurements and photos I'd taken and asked that the director follow-up with me to collect demographics about his student body so I could complete the grant request.   Unfortunately, every time I've seen him since then he says, “I know, I know, I still owe you a report” and then I don’t see him again for a month or two.   Since the timeframe for applying for grants has now ended for me, I plan to tell my replacement about this project.  Hopefully, with a little more pushing, they can expand the wall and try to improve the plumbing system.  Things take a long time to come to fruition here.  Accepting that has been one of the many great challenges I've faced during my service.

  

 

     

This week, Ibou and I dropped by Moussa’s office because he’d failed to show up at a scheduled meeting the week before.  We needed some information from him about an Educational Fair we’ll be attending at the end of the month and thought we’d have a captured audience if we just showed up on his doorstep.  This proved to be true.  After a productive meeting, he asked if we’d like to see the interactive white boards that had just been installed in two of his classes.  “What?!”, I uttered, thinking I’d misunderstood him.  “Interactive white boards that project from a computer onto the classroom wall,” he said.  “Why, of course I would”, I answered, still in a bit of disbelief.  Sure enough, we walked across the courtyard, just steps away from the broken latrines and non-functioning sinks and found a classroom with an LCD projector mounted to the ceiling.  The teacher invited us into her classroom, propped a laptop on a lidded bucket, and fired the thing up.  She then started calibrating the touch-sensor on the rectangular “white board” painted on the wall.  With my jaw still a bit slack, I watched as she used a wand to draw pictures and type words onto the board.  Then, the kids got up and did the same.  Granted, I’ve been away from the U.S. for a couple of years and haven’t visited a classroom (aside from the aforementioned trip) since Elliott and Emily were little kids, so maybe these are in commonplace back home, but I was truly taken aback.  This is rural Africa, for God’s sake, where kids don’t even have proper toilets at school, yet here they were using a keyboard image to type out words on the wall.

This lovely world never ceases to amaze me!

 

 

 

A Day in the Life of April's Africa

Today is April 19th, just an ordinary day, but one that, historically, has held some significance in my life and probably yours. First and foremost, it was my Granddaddy Penington's birthday (admittedly, this one is more "my life"), he would have been 103 years old today. Dr. Bob was a fun-loving gentleman and I always pause to think about him at this time of year. This is also the day that the Branch Davidians had their catostrophic showdown in Waco, TX in 1993 and the day that the Federal Building in Oklahoma City was bombed in 1995.  Within this same week in recent history, we also had the Columbine shootings in 1999 and, a little closer to home for me, the Virginia Tech shootings in 2007. I'm always grateful when we get through this week without incident. And because non-news is rarely reported, I thought I'd write a bit about my rather mundane day here in Senegal, this April 19th.  Besides, what has become quotidien for me, is likely still new and different for you.

I awoke this morning in my Bug Hut on the porch just outside my room. It's been so hot lately, that by the evening hours, my room heats up to oven-like temperatures and my fan, instead of improving the situation, just makes it feel like a convection oven. So I've taken to sleeping outdoors. Even before I opened my eyes, I heard the familiar call of the Beautiful Sunbird who visits the bushes next to my patio every morning, and therefore I woke up smiling, knowing that the first thing I would see would be breathtaking. I was surprised to discover, however, when I did open my eyes, that this regal bird was joined by two other spectular birds who make their home in Senegal, both equally stunning and much larger. There they all were, just two feet from me, and there I lay--without my camera. I knew that as soon as I moved and unzipped my tent they would fly off, so I just lay there quietly for 10 minutes or so and enjoyed their beauty as they cooed and preened themselves in the morning light. Soon, nature called and I was forced to get up and sure enough, they flew off, one right after the other. Here are pictures I've captured of these same birds over the past month from a much greater distance. Tonight, you can be bet I'll be sleeping with my camera at the ready.

The Beautiful Sunbird

Senegal Coucal

 Abyssinian Roller

After dismantling my tent, I made coffee and instant grits (you can take the girl outta the South, but you can't take the South outta the girl ;-)) and sat on my porch enjoying a relatively cool morning, while reading a chapter of my current book, John Steinbeck's The Winter of My Discontent.  This is the 26th book I've read since I've been in Senegal (for a full listing, see the My Spare Time page of this blog.)  It's amazing what lack of developed-world stimulation can do for the mind.

After breakfast, Ibou and I met with an agency that's writing a paper on our Paper Briquette Project, in hopes of providing us with some funding. They came by to discuss the project and collect some of the pictures I've taken. The agency supports sustainable development projects in Diourbel and after interviewing many groups and their projects, they've decided to put our project forward and present it in their proposal for grant money. I couldn't be more pleased. This is how our project came to life. Back in December, I attended an Appropriate Technology Seminar at the Peace Corps Training Center. Peace Corps Volunteers from thoughout West Africa came together to present technologies that they'd discovered and used successfully in their communities. The Paper Briquette Press was presented by my friend Stephanie, who lives just 25km south of me. It's basically a small three-piece metal contraction that presses wet paper pulp into a brick-like form. The brick is then dried and used in place of wood, gas, or charcoal for cooking. Recyclable paper is used to make the pulp, thus providing a means of reducing trash while decreasing the cost of fuel and minimizing the unhealthy smoke normally created during the cooking process. A "win-win-win" situation, you might say. The project never really took off at Steph's site, because she lives in a small village where there's a scarcity of paper. We both agreed that Diourbel was a perfect location to try it as there are many government offices and schools with bins full of waste paper to use and recycle. So, Steph visited us in early January and brought the press for a demonstration. Ibou loved the idea, we got buy-in from our association, and we quickly found a metal worker to replicate the press. Since then, Ibou, our friend Lamine, and I have done lots of testing and have now incorporated it into our Eco-Ecole project, using it to teach 4th graders about their environment. It's been so much fun and I'm glad the project is getting some attention.

A Step-By-Step Guide for Using the Paper Briquette Press

Step 1 - Make paper pulp.

Step 2 - Place pulp in press.

Step 3 - Place top plate on press.

Step 4 - Apply pressure to press.



Step 5 - Voila!  A paper briquette.

 From that meeting, we walked to a neighborhood elementary school, where we were scheduled to meet with the Directors of the five schools participating in our Eco-Ecole program. Unfortunately, four of the five Directors failed to show up--ironic because one of the meeting agenda items was to discuss absenteeism amongst our students. Go figure! We proceded with the meeting anyway, as there was one Director, two teachers, and a parent representative who had come. We summarized our program and detailed what went on in the five classes we held over Spring Break. The Director served us cafe Touba and beignets (think elongated donut-hole), so I've now had my sugar fix for the entire week. At the end of the meeting, a teacher poked her head in to speak with the Director, then they asked me if I would mind stepping into one of the classrooms to "demonstrate the color of my skin." Apparently, the teacher had taught a lesson yesterday about the differences in people's skin color throughout the world and was thrilled to have a Toubab in her presence to show the kids. When I entered the class there were 40 adorable little kids all sitting at their desks. When the teacher asked them if they remembered what they learned yesterday, they all responded in unison, "Oui, Madame." She introduced me and asked the class what color my skin was and they all responded, "Blanche, Madame." I tried to protest and explain to them that "aux Etats-Unis", most people would differ with that response, referring to me more as olive or brown, but that seemed a bit over their heads--they were only 6 or 7 years old, so I let it go. She then asked them "And what color is your skin?", to which they responded "Noir, Madame." Then, as proof that the concept of political correctness has not yet reached these shores, she asked "and who has Yellow skin?" and they shouted "les Chinois", and "who has Red skin?" and they shouted "les Indians." She looked so pleased. And, that, my friends, is what is being taught about the world today "en Afrique."

"Oui, Madame!"

One teacher on the cutting edge of social advancement, or not.

On our way out of the school, I stopped to take a picture of some girls playing "Elastique." They tie pieces of elastic fabric together into a large loop (one group was actually playing with one made entirely of torn-up old leopard print underwear), two girls hold the loop open, and one or two girls hop in the middle and kicks her leg up and over the band, interlacing herself in and out of the band, kind of like "Cat's Cradle", but with legs instead of fingers. It looked fun. As soon as the camera came out, however, I got rushed by half the school who all wanted to be in the picture. After that, Ibou and I stopped to gaze upon and pass judgment at the big pile of trash and plastic that was burning in the middle of the school yard. Tsk tsk! Hopefully, our Eco-Ecole program will put an end to unhealthy practices like that. We also plan to plant a plethera of much-needed shade trees. While the kids were out in the bright midday sun playing during recess, all of the teachers were lined up under the awning of one of the classrooms where there was a single strip of shade. Trees will make a world of difference in this school yard and in all of the others that we're working with, as well. Hopefully, we can get that message across. Just last week while I was in Dakar, I picked up 1,000 tree seedling sacks so we can get our tree nursery project started with the kids.

Fun with Elastique!

Everyone wants to be in the picture.

Kids are breathing the fumes of burning plastic at school.

At lunch, I joined the Gueye family across the street, as I always do. It was a typical day at the lunch bowl, although instead of Thieboudienne, we had Yassa (a yummy sauteed onion sauce served over white rice with a couple of pieces of fish and potatoes thrown in the middle.) I love Yassa and Yassa Poulet (the version with chicken) is even better. Today we had 12 people around the womens' bowl, although we were a good mix of women and children (both male and female). I have to admit that twelve is a bit crowded for the bowl and overcrowding has a negative effect on the entire culinary experience. Let me describe the scene for you. We're all siting around the bowl, with sweaty legs touching and overlapping so we can all fit. Only me and the small boys have spoons, all the women and young girls eat with their hands. We should all be focused on the portion of food directly in front of us, but with three toddlers at the bowl, that's hard to manage, so there were hands, arms and spoons every which way today. Cheikh, a 2 year-old, was sitting on his mom's lap to my right and his great Aunt Marame, was sitting to my left. At one point Cheikh had run out of onion sauce on his portion of rice so he reached over with both hands (a double no-no) and took some of mine. His Aunt saw this and slapped his hands (they teach bowl manners early here), and to my surprise, he slapped her back. She was astonished and slapped his hand again.  He was none too pleased, and returned the blow. This continued (right over my portion of the bowl, mind you) until everyone broke out in laughter. Then, as if that weren't exciting enough, a visiting 3 year old started choking on a piece of potato. His mom made him cough if up into her hand, dumped it on the ground, wiped her hand on her skirt, and then kept on eating. Then, the midday heat must have gotten to Fallou (a 9 year old boy), so he got up, puked in the courtyard, covered it with a handful of sand and then came back to the bowl to finish eating.  After that, Cheikh sneezed, spraying his mouthful of half-chewed rice into the bowl.   I seem to always sit next to Cheikh these days, which means that I leave every meal with a lap full of greasy rice and other items he's taken from the bowl and dropped on me. He's also developed a bad habit of resting his greasy hand on my thigh, so all of my clothes now have a grease splotch just above the knee on that side. I've given some thought lately about "firing" my lunch family. I pay them about $30/month to eat lunch with them, which doesn't sound like a lot, but it takes a chunk out of my monthly stipend (and I seem to be the only person paying it, but that's beside the point.) Also, I've just about reached my rice threshold and am not sure how much longer it will be before I can no longer put one more bite of it in my mouth. But, it's days like today, when a new dish appears out of the blue and everyone around the table laughs all at once at the slapstick antics around the bowl, that make me want to stick it out, even if I come home and make myself something else to eat an hour later.

As I was headed out the door to lunch, Ibou headed into Dakar to file some paperwork for our association. Lamine, who comes twice a day to water the garden, hang out, and help with classes, also left to go eat. On his way out the door he said, "Ok, I go now. You will be alone now," and quitely, under my breath, I said, "finally!" Alone time is hard to come by in Senegal. Although Ibou and I are technically the only two people that live in my compound this time of year, there are almost always other people here. Business associates arrive unannounced throughout the day to discuss projects, shoot the breeze, or use the internet. Neighbors come regularly to borrow things, offer to run errands, clean the compound, or share news. Lamine is here every morning and evening to water the garden and then Tafa come 6 nights a week to water some more and guard the property overnight. Within our compound, I have two rooms that measure 3m x 3m each, but even these are not entirely private. One is my bedroom and has a small bathroom attached and the other I use as an office. Without much warning, someone may appear at the entrance to either of these rooms and whip back the curtain door to greet me. Most people try to show a little restrain, however, and instead of whipping back the curtain, will just stand on the other side of it chanting "Assalum malekum." Literally translated this means, "peace be upon you", but in these circumstances it means, "I've arrived at your door for no particular reason so you must come out and acknowledge me so we can exchange meaningless greetings while I interupt whatever it is that you were doing before I arrived."  This happens countless times each day.  Needless to say, greetings are the well-respected backbone of this society and you don't mess with them, even if you're a Toubab trying to get some work done.

So, the little alone time I got this afternoon was a pleasant change. I finished a pair of socks I've been knitting (you can see a picture of them on the My Spare Time page) and was able to sit down and type up these thoughts. The power has been out most of the day, so noone has came to use the internet and I had about 3 hours of uninterrupted alone time while everyone else I know took an afternoon nap. It was lovely.  Then, the power came back on, Mom and Dad skyped, Lamine returned with a couple of friends to water the garden, and people started lining up at my door for evening greetings. I was back in the real world again.  I'm sure tomorrow will bring much of the same.