Tamba Nation and the Talibé

Last week I ventured to “Tamba Nation”, the self-titled hub for volunteers who live in and around the Tambacounda region in SE Senegal.  The purpose of my visit was two-fold:  1) to teach a beekeeping class for volunteers who are interested in getting involved with beekeepers in the area, and 2) to attend “Tambathon – A Race for Education” organized by the regional volunteers to raise money to encourage girls to stay in school.  Unexpectedly, my visit served a third purpose which was to really open my eyes to the issue of the Talibé and bring a new perspective to this group of unfortunate kids.

Tambacounda is about 5-6 hours from Diourbel, depending on the road conditions and what type of vehicle you get in, but I was able to catch a ride down in a Peace Corps car which always shaves off a little time and is exponentially more comfortable than local transport.  Like Diourbel, Tamba is hot and dry this time of year with daytime temperatures over 100 degrees and nights in the balmy 70s, but the HOT season is just beginning. Over the next month or so, the thermometer will continue to rise to about 120 degrees in the day and will only drop to the 90s at night.  It will stay like this until the rainy season comes again in July, so basically, until I leave.  This is the time of year when your skin gets very dry, your heels begin to crack, your nasal passages are crusted with rock-like formations and are prone to bleeding for no reason, and when we all start sleeping outside in tents because our cinderblock rooms or thatched huts we live in become unbearable.

My boss, Amar Sall, accompanied me on this trip and helped to organize the logistics for the 3-hour introductory beekeeping class that my friend Jerry, the visiting beekeeper, helped me put together while he was visiting in January.  Fifteen volunteers participated, learning the basics of the honeybee lifecycle and social order, the history of beekeeping, the different types of hives used in the area, and the process for how to harvest honey.  It was fun to pass along this knowledge to a group of young people who are enthused about this nerdy hobby of mine.  The following day, Amar took a handful of us out to a beekeeping cooperative about 45 minutes SE of the city.  There we met with some folks who run a “miellerie” or honey-harvesting center that supports the beekeepers in the area.  Tamba’s terrain is much more conducive to beekeeping (more trees and natural vegetation, as well as a large water source), so there are quite a few beekeepers in the area.  This association works with 35 beekeepers that use both traditional hives and Kenya Top Bar hives.  Traditional hives are made of reed or millet stalks bound together and rolled into a cylindrical log and capped at both ends with round pieces of wood each containing a small entrance hole.  This type of beekeeping has been practiced in Africa thousands of years and is quite effective here.  Kenyan Top Bar hives were introduced more recently from East Africa and allow for more manipulation within the hive and higher honey productions.  Both versions require that you destroy comb when harvesting honey, but at least they’re moving in the right direction, by adopting more modern equipment.  What they’re doing is also very measurable; they know how many beekeepers are in the area, how many of each kind of hive they have, and how much honey is being produced from the hives.  We were so impressed with the coordinated effort of this cooperative that Amar and I have decided to apply for a food security grant to help them expand their operation.  One of my class participants approached me when returned from this visit to say that she wants to extend her service for a a 3rd year to focus on beekeeping efforts, so all of the pieces are beginning to fall into place.  Since I had hoped to be involved in Senegalese beekeeping since my arrival, I’m glad that this project has finally taken shape and will live on after my service.  It’s all about sustainability, right?

Honey filtration system

Traditional grass hive

Kenya Top Bar hive

Steam-based honey extractor

Association label

Local honey label

Honey refractor

Cashew tree

Cashew fruit

Honey bee on cashew tree flower

On our way back to Tamba, the group asked Amar to stop at one of the campements (rustic campground resorts) situated on the bank of The Gambia River that's known to be frequented by hippos.  Luckily for us, there were two hanging out there that day but, because it was midday and hot, they mostly stayed below the surface of the water.  We’d occasionally see their heads bob up to breathe and even heard them neigh, which is why, I suppose, they call them the “river horses”.  Hippos in the wild--what an amazing sight to see!

The Gambia River

Look closely, that's a hippo head (facing the bank)

Twenty-five Volunteers call the Tamba Nation and its’ regional house their home-away-from-home.  Many of the volunteers in this region live out in villages and bike into the city to enjoy electricity, running water, and the camaraderie of their friends from time to time.  A few of them actually live in the city in small apartments or with host-families, including my friend Jamie who let me sleep on her roof while I was there. Hanging out with this tight-knit group made me made me realize what a different Peace Corps experience they are having from me.  My site is located pretty far away from other volunteers and my “regional house” is the Dakar transit house, located 3 hours away from my site. Our transit house is a place where volunteers from all over West Africa come and go on their way in and out of the city and most of the Senegalese volunteers, like me, that are assigned there live at least a couple of hours away by car.  There is definitely a family feel about the clustering of volunteers in other regions and they seem to be involved in a lot more group projects.  I’ve seen this on my trips to the Kaolack regional house, as well.  When it comes right down to it, I suppose we all leave here with a different perspective on our service, but somehow because of my location and maybe, at times, because of my age, my service seems a bit more solitary than most.

Another difference I noticed when visiting the Tamba region is the effect the surrounding ethnic group has on the culture.  Tambacoundans are mostly Pulaars.  They have their own language, which is a bit more sing-songy than Wolof and their interactions are much less aggressive.  Walking down the street in Tambacounda was a markedly different experience than walking down the street in Diourbel.  I felt much more welcomed. 

Board games!  That's Jamie, my host, on the right.

Tamba Nation regional house

The boys did their "Warblers" routine for me.

This friendly Pulaar woman "took a picture" of me with her purse.

The most recent group project that the Tamba Nation coordinated was a Race for Education, a 5k-10K-1/2 Marathon event that raised about $3000 for girls’ education.  I’ve been calling it the "Tambathon" all week.  At some point, I considered running the 5K and, in retrospect, kind of wish that I had since we had a fairly cool morning.  I was happy enough, however, to be down there cheering on those that did and capturing the experience in photos.  In addition to the many volunteers that made the trip to Tamba to run this race, many local kids and school and government officials participated. The local army post and fire department also had an impressive showing.  Djiby Sow, a runner from Dakar who has run marathons all over the world, traveled 10 hours to join us and made a monetary contribution to the cause. He was quite personable and even came with a personal manager, which seemed to elevate his celebrity status and make us all wish that we traveled with personal managers.  He was all muscles and legs and ran the ½ marathon in 1hr 14min.  My friend Richard Ross, who admittedly has a little less leg and a little less muscle, became a celebrity in his own right by “joggling” the entire way and being the first volunteer to finish the ½ marathon. 

Girls getting ready for the 5K

And, they're off!

Djiby Sow easing across the finish line

The Djiby Sow fan club

Joggling to the finish line

Unfortunately, Richard’s excitement for the event was somewhat marred at the end of the race when he crossed the finish line and was immediately approached by a group of Talibé kids asking for alms.  Richard is affectionately known among his Peace Corps friends and family as “the Talibé Whisperer.”  He’s spent much of his 3-yr service working with this group of young boys who are forced to beg on the streets as part of their Koranic education.  “Talibé” translates to “disciple” and is the term used to describe boys who are sent by their families to live in daaras (usually located in run-down buildings) with local marabouts to learn the lessons of the Koran.  They spend hours memorizing and reciting Arabic chants and the rest of their time begging on the streets, collecting money for the marabouts and finding their own food.  In general, they are not well-cared for, and are usually unbathed and wearing raggedy clothing.  Images of Fagin and his group of street kids from “Oliver Twist” often come to mind when I observe the Talibé and their marabouts.  This group of kids is the focus of concern for many NGOs, including World Vision and Human RightsWatch (click on the hyperlinks if you're interested in more info).  They are prevalent throughout the country and even in my neighborhood most families have a Talibé child who comes on a daily basis to pick up a bowl of rice at lunchtime. This is likely the only food they eat all day.  Richard lives in St. Louis and started a garden project there to teach them to grow some of their own food.  He’s also met with the US Ambassador and leaders of aid groups to discuss possible solutions to assist these boys, and has organized an upcoming soccer tournament that will not only give them the opportunity to participate in a group sporting event and have social interaction, but will raise money to help ensure their well-being.

Talibé watching the race

This kid climbed up to join me

Looking for water

Shoo-ing away the Talibé

Talibé with their signature bowls

I’ve wanted to write about the Talibé for a long time but, for many reasons that are hard to explain, the topic is a difficult one to summarize.  Who knew that the Tambathon would provide me with the motivation to bring this issue to the forefront?  The juxtaposition of a group of well-intentioned volunteers and community leaders that came together to raise money and awareness for one group of kids (girls who want to stay in school), while at the same time excluding another (the Talibé) by shoo-ing them away from the event was shockingly evident to those of us who weren’t too busy dealing with the race logistics to notice.   At the end of the race large groups of these dirty, thirsty, hungry, young boys crowded around us asking for t-shirts, water, and bean sandwiches, but we had no system to deal with it.  These were for the runners, which made sense, as the project had been well-planned to provide for those who were participating in the race.  Group dynamics quickly came into play and volunteers and staff (the “haves”) huddled around the supplies to protect them from the grabbing hands of the Talibé (the “have-nots”).  Yes, even I was guilty of this. Watching this scene play out through my camera lens really made me pause and reflect.  How have I treated the Talibé on a daily basis?  How are they different from the neighborhood kids who ask me for xaalis (money) on a daily basis, yet have families that care for them and beds to sleep in every night?  What could I have done during my service to make a difference in these kids’ lives?  Maybe it’s because I spent several days hanging out with Richard after this event, but this issue really started to get under my skin.  My service is coming to a close in a few months, so it’s not realistic to think that I’m going to take on a Talibé project that will have any real effect, but I have started to implement a simple approach that someone suggested will make a difference--stopping to greet the boys when I see them and just simply asking them their names.  This brief interaction can have a significant effect on them psychologically and validates them as people, not just beggars.  This is something I can and will do.

This little boy's name is Abdou

My Mega Month

What a whirlwind the past month has been.  After spending a lovely Christmas at the beach with a group of friends, I came back to site and started preparing for a busy month.  Since then, I’ve been on-the-go and changing direction almost every day.  It seems that all of my project work has converged at once over the past few weeks.  I won’t bore you with blow-by-blow details, but here are some of my January highlights:

• Held a T-shirt making class with my Girls Club (shout outs to my mom and sister for the supplies)
• Led another round of Safe Zone Training, this time for Volunteers during their in-service training
• Participated in a 2-day Junior Achievement preparatory training session (this is a worldwide program that “empowers young people to own their economic success”---see http://www.ja.org/ for the US version.)  I’ll be teaching both the high school and elementary school levels of JA classes this year.
• Attended a 2-day Small Enterprise Development Summit which included sessions on Handicrafts management and Agribusiness, as well as field trips to an Eco-Village, a Food Technology Institute, and a small business administration office in Dakar.
• Helped coordinate a day-long SeneGAD (Gender & Development) Summit which included talks on HIV/AIDS, working with kids through sports, and presentations from GAD groups visiting from Mali, Guinea, and The Gambia. Also, attended my last SeneGAD Board Meeting and turned over my Communications Coordinator position to two new gals who will now share the title.
• Participated in two Work Zone Coordinator Meetings to discuss the management of information and project coordination for volunteers in my sub-region.
• Attended a 2-day All Volunteer Conference where I:
• participated on a Diversity Panel sharing my experiences being a “Female Volunteer in Senegal” (more specifically, sharing the story of how the police treated me after I was mugged last year);
• presented a case study on the Gardens of Moringa training I organized with  my friend Andrew last month;
• demonstrated my Paper Briquette Press during an Appropriate Technology Fair
•  attended an assortment of interesting sessions on an environmental education club, a school correspondence program, and a beekeeping association in Guinea.
• Played in the West African Invitational Softball Tournament (affectionately known as WAIST) where Peace Corps regional teams play those from the Marine Corps, the Embassy, USAID, and a number of other ex-pat groups.  By tradition, the Peace Corps teams wear themed costumes which makes it a lot of fun for us. The other teams don’t which makes it less fun for them.
• Met with the founder of Swahili Imports (http://swahili-imports.com/), a small African arts and handicrafts importer from the lovely Eugene, Oregon, to learn more about the import/export process.  To my delight, not only did I learn a lot, but she was interested in some of Mamadou’s work, so I sent her home with a couple of his wooden plates to show her team.  She’ll be back in a couple of months and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that she’ll place an order.
• Welcomed Jerry McGahan, a beekeeper from Montana, who came to Senegal on a Farmer-to-Farmer grant funded by USAID.  Together, we:
• met with the president of the Senegalese beekeeping union and with regional representatives of a  Senegalese NGO organization who are working on a localized honey consolidation project;
• visited with several beekeepers in the Thiès and Fatick regions and inspected their hives;
• visited with potential beekeepers in the Diourbel region and advised them on how to get started;
• taught young school kids about the importance of pollination and how bees fit into this process;
• coordinated a craft project with my Girls Club making and decorating bee sculptures;
• worked on a training presentation that I will later give to Peace Corps Volunteers interested in supporting beekeepers in their regions.
• Held my first Junior Achievement class with 35 students and 5 teacher assistants at the local technical high school.
• Coordinated an Eco-Ecole exposition for a delegation of visiting Scout leaders from Finland and Senegal.

Whew!  ALL of that took place over a three week period. I’m exhausted.  Maybe I should just submit this blog entry as my resume when I return to the states.  "If I'm capable of accomplishing that much in just three weeks (in a foreign language), just think what I can do for you!"


Sunday was my first down day since early January.  There was nothing on my calendar and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it.  I made a big pot of vegetable barley soup, started a new knitting project, and lost myself in Pinterst for a couple of hours.  It was just what I needed.

Here are some snapshots of events from the last month.

Newly painted t-shirts!

A rockin' solar powered water pump at an Eco-Village

This light and gas stove are fueled by a methane gas
tank which is fueled by this couple's sheep and cows--so cool!

A pedal-powered machine at the food technology institute

Making paper pulp to show the briquette press
at the Appropriate Technology Fair

Panel discussion on Diversity

Les Francais aka Les Dakarois
(Yes, I'm the Eiffel Tower in the middle)

The lovely ladies who replaced me as SeneGAD Communications Coordinator;
yes, it takes two to fill my shoes ;-)

Abdou Seck's honey stand

The Three Amigos - Me, Abdou, and Jerry in Bandia

Meeting up with some more beekeepers down in the delta region

Inspecting hives in the mangroves

Busy little bees.  Aren't they pretty?

Jerry consulting about honey extraction

Mamadou's hopes of selling his products in the U.S.
just may come to fruition.

Beekeeping lesson at our Eco-Ecole

Making bee sculptures with my Girls Club

Soudou and Ibou planning out a future training garden and apiary.

Now that this crazy month has come to an end, it's got me thinking about how I reacted to it.  One of the benefits of living out in the middle of nowhere on my own is that my experiences often shines a light on my idiosyncrasies.  In my little bubble, it's hard not to notice slight behavior changes and quirks. Lately, because I've had too many things on my plate, my office has become littered with piles of project paperwork and supplies and the bags from my last couple of trips still lay unpacked on my bedroom floor.  Thinking back on my life at home, this rang true there, as well.  The busier and more stressed my work life became the more out of control my living space got and the weaker my coping skills became.  Take for example the mouse that recently died in my office. For days, I smelled it, knew it was there, but couldn't deal with digging through the piles of stuff in my office to find it.  Instead, I lit incense and said I'd get to it later.  This is not just laziness, this is not being able to take on one more thing.  My body also tends to shut down when I'm overloaded.  During the midst of this busy period I had to decide whether or not to make an unplanned trip to Dakar to deal with an inner ear problem I was having.  Making the trip meant cancelling some project plans and inconveniencing other people, so I opted not to go. Luckily, with lots of fluids and decongestants the the problem cleared up on its own.


These glimpses into my personality are a good reminder for me to pay attention to them.  My reactions to stress may not change much, but I can probably do a better job of recognizing the signs and using them as a reminder to stop and take a time-out every once in a while.  Ibou and his friends often comment to me that I work too much.  I used to think that my work habits were just exaggerated in contrast to the many rest periods and breaks they take throughout the day, but maybe there's something more innate to it.  I have to remember that there's nothing wrong with closing the laptop, putting down the reference book, and doing something completely recreational for a bit.  This weekend's date with my knitting needles and soup pot were a good reminder of that.  Self-reflection; it's a good thing.


If you're interested in seeing more recent photos, I've added a few new ones to the Photos tab (see tab at top of blog page).  The most recent ones are Christmas in Popenguine v2.011 and  Highlights from WAIST 2012.  I also added some new photos to the albums entitled: Keur Cheikh Girls Club , Skype Snapshots, and the Tangibly Marking the Passage of Time.

P.S. - I did finally look high and low for the dead mouse and, although I didn't find it (I fear it's in the wall, but thankfully, the smell has faded), this new one was waiting for me under my desk the next time I entered my office.  A sacrificial lamb, of sorts.

Thanks for sending the d-CON, Mom.

The Nightmare After Christmas and How I Rang in the New Year

After a busy first few weeks of December spent training in and around Thiès & Dakar, I was prepared to spend Christmas back at site watching holiday movies on my computer and nibbling away at the stash of dark chocolate my friends and family have sent.  With very little arm twisting, however, some of my Peace Corps peeps convinced me that joining them at the beach was a much better idea.  We rented a house in Popenguine, a small beach town on the Petit Côte south of Dakar and spent three days playing in the sand, frolicking in the surf, eating great home-cooked meals, and enjoying a relaxing weekend engulfed in holiday spirit.

Garrison, April, Kelsey, Amy, Clint, and Daisy

Daisy grew up in a traditional Mexican household in Los Angeles and offered to whip us up a Mexican holiday feast on Christmas Eve.  We had carne asada with homemade tortillas, empanitas stuffed with cumin gouda and bacon, homemade salsa, candied yams, arroz con leche, and bissap/mint juice.  I drew upon my own brown roots and contributed a big pot of frijoles.  After dinner, we crowded around a laptop to watch “Love Actually”, a modern Christmas classic, and then changed into nice clothes and headed to the village for midnight mass.  Halfway to town, the electricity went off, which was no big surprise until we arrived at the church to discover that it was not only dark, but locked.  Apparently, midnight mass was held at 10pm and we'd missed it.  We all had a good laugh about it and headed back to the house, stopping along the way to listen to a traditional Senegalese band at the restaurant next door.

Daisy pounding salt

Our glorified camp stove

A failed attempt at Christmas Eve Mass

We awoke the next morning pleased to find that Santa had managed to find us in our little corner of the world.  He’d filled our stockings and snacked on the treats we left him.  An American ex-pat  friend joined us for coffee and Kelsey’s yummy breakfast strata and then we headed back into town a second try at mass.  The service was in French, baby Jesus and the Virgin Mary were black, and the choir, which sung in French, Wolof, and Latin, rocked-out with the aid of drums, hand-clapping, and many African percussion instruments.  It was so much fun to watch.  The tourists from neighboring resort towns joined in to experience Christmas in Africa.

After church we sat by our 6-ft tall wooden giraffe “Christmas tree“ and opened our stockings and presents while eating Kelsey’s cinnamon rolls.  We were all like little kids again.  For most of the people with me, this was their first Christmas away from home or away from their parents.  Their nostalgia was contagious and reminded me of happy childhood Christmases back home.  I have to admit it’s been awhile.

Stockings come in all shapes and sizes

Our Christmas "tree"

Garrison took charge of Christmas dinner and impressed us all with his culinary delights.  He made roasted chicken with a lemon cream sauce, steamed julienne carrots, and bowtie pasta tossed with pesto.  Daisy made homemade eggnog and for dessert I made a trifle.  We so enjoyed these tasty Toubab meals mostly because the ingredients are hard to come by and purchasing them requires a commitment to splurge beyond what our monthly stipends will allow, but also because they were not made under the easiest of circumstances.  Both the electricity and the water were off  more than 50% of the time we were there.  We made due using the gas stove, collecting water in buckets when we could, washing dishes in the surf, and cooking and eating by headlamp and candlelight.  We’re all learning to go with the flow.

Later that evening we had a bonfire on the beach, complete with s’mores, fireworks, and laughter.  It really was a delightful weekend and rejuvenated my belief in holiday happiness.

Christmas Dinner

Garrison & Clint by the bonfire

Garrison & Kelsey ashing dishes in the surf

Stained glass at Christmas Mass

Amy, April, Kelsey, & Daisy

We couldn't have asked for more beautiful sunsets

 If you want to see the whole array of Christmas photos that I posted to my Facebook page, click here : Christmas in Popenguine 

After Christmas, I went back to site for a couple of days and then embarked on my first real project work.  At our All-Volunteer Conference at the beginning of the month, I'd gone on a beekeeping field trip to an apiary near Thiès.  On the bus ride over, I mentioned that I kept bees back in the States and the next thing I know, the trip leaders asked me to help translate and lead the session.  I was so enthralled, that I went back two weeks later, during our In-Service Training to do it again with the Agro-Forestry group.  I asked the beekeeper, Abdou Seck, if he’d be interested in partnering on some training projects and not only did he agree but he wanted to begin immediately.  So, on the 30th of December, I packed up my bags again and joined him on a 3-day beekeeping tour in the Kaolack region, south of Diourbel.

Leading a discussion on beekeeping

Abdou and I with the honey extractor

Inside a hive box

We met up at the garage (car depot) in Diourbel and headed to Kaolack together in a Sept-Place.  Aside from the bumpy road, that leg of the trip was rather uneventful.  We stopped in at Abou’s sister-in-law’s house for lunch and Attaya (afternoon tea) and awaited the car that was supposed to take us out to our destination village.  The driver was delayed and then finally showed up telling us that his car wouldn't make the trip.  Our only other option this late in the day was to take a series of Ndiaga Ndiayes, the ridiculously over-crowded public buses that transport people, livestock, and cargo all at the same time, and stop every couple kilometers to let people on and off.  We boarded the first bus just before dusk and spent the next couple of hours winding our way through small road towns until we finally reached Wack Ngouna.  Each time we stopped to let people on or off was a production.  Women dressed in flowing boubous, carrying sacks of bread, baskets of produce, and/or live chickens had to crawl over the people already seated to reach their empty seats.  Their pathways were blocked by sacks of rice, cases of eggs, and cases of sodas.  As each new person got on the bus, we all scrunched in closer until we were shoulder-to-shoulder and thigh-to-thigh.  The farther out we went, the darker it got, the closer Abdou got pressed against me, and the more tired I grew and irritable.  I started to doubt my choice to join a man I barely knew on a trip out to the hinterlands, especially with his arm now draped around my shoulders.  When we finally arrived in the village it was pitch black because the electricity had gone out.    We were dropped off at the door of small office building where we planned to spend the night.  The guard showed us in and shined his flashlight on the dingy mattress on the floor in the corner of an office where we were both supposed to sleep.  Ok, now I was really doubting my intelligence.  What had I just gotten myself into?  

Without trying to appear panicked, I told Abdou that I would prefer to sleep in the hallway.  I’d brought my Therma-Rest mat and a small Bug-Hut tent with me and would be much happier out there.  He looked at me like I was insane and asked why I would choose to sleep on the floor in the hallway when there was a perfectly “good” mattress for us right there in a room that locked.  I said that I preferred to sleep alone and showed him my mat and tent.  He then pointed to the small space between the mattress and the desk where I could set these up.  “No”, I reiterated.  “I’d really rather sleep alone.  It’s an American thing.  We like our privacy” (all of the above being communicated in my broken French, of course.)  He gave me that “crazy Toubab” look and helped me carry my things into the classroom next door, shaking his head and stating that someone might step on me if I stayed in the hallway.   I quickly set up my sleeping area and was about to settle in when Abdou came into the room, laid his prayer mat at the foot of my tent and started his evening prayer ritual.  So much for privacy.  I guess he was afraid someone would step on him in the hallway.  Who is this someone, I wondered; there was no one there but us and the guard.  Anyway, when he was done praying he got up as if ready to go somewhere (in the pitch dark) and said, incredulously,  “you’re going to go to sleep now?”.    “Yes”, I muttered, and then didn’t add what I was really thinking, “I’m out in the middle of the boonies, in a developing country, with a man I barely know who intended to share a dingy old mattress on the ground with me, it‘s pitch black outside, I haven‘t had dinner, and my headlamp isn’t working,  Yes, I’m going to bed now!”  Again, he just shook his head and went to his room.

With this exhausting day now behind me, I crawled in my tent and hoped that tomorrow would bring better things, as I drifted off to sleep.  Not long after that, however, I felt a hand gently rest on my calf.  “Aack!  Go away!“,…no, I’m just dreaming, I thought.  Then I felt the side of the tent press against my other leg.  “OMG, there’s someone trying to get in my tent!  GO AWAY, LEAVE ME ALONE”, I screamed.  Then, I heard the rattling of the metal door and someone trying to break in.  A flashlight shined at me and someone was yelling in Wolof.  I awoke to find the security guard in his underwear, half asleep, shining his light at me and around the room.  He wanted to know what was wrong, why I was shouting, and who else was in the room with me.  I was quickly awake and overcome with embarrassment, as I realized that I was just having a nightmare.  All I could think to say was “Je dors, je dors” (“I’m sleeping, I’m sleeping”), which the guard thought was ridiculous because, clearly, I wasn’t sleeping.  His flashlight shined on several toads that were hopping around the room and had likely jumped on my legs, serving as a catalyst for the crazy nightmare I just had.  He called Abdou out of his room to come deal with this crazy Toubab and I explained to him that I had just had a nightmare.  When Abdou translated for the guard, they both started laughing at me, and finally left me at alone, both now shaking their heads.

[The next day, I took pictures of the scene to amuse myself.]

The creepy bed on the floor.

My tent set up in the other room.

The toads came back for another visit.

The next morning, the sun was shining and my insecurities were laid to rest. It was a new day.  Abdou, as it turns out wasn’t the creepy old man I’d made him out to be in my state of exhaustion.  His offer for me to sleep with him, was just good old-fashioned Senegalese “teranga” (hospitality to the nth degree) plus a disparity of cultures--women don’t sleep alone, nor do they live alone, and Senegalese people in general prefer to be in the company of others.  I guess I showed him how brave and independent we American women can be!  Ha. 

We started our day with an egg salad sandwich (well, as close as you can get around here) and a cup of coffee.  Sometime thereafter we were met by a guy from the forestry department, several members of the local Environmental Club, and a driver with a truck.   As I’ve learned through many experiences here, nothing ever starts on time.  We were scheduled to begin our tour of surrounding villages at 8am, but didn’t actually leave until after 10am.  I carry a book with me at all times, just for these occasions.  Once we got going though, we had quite an adventure.  Back in June or July, Abdou had been down in this area to give a beekeeping workshop in partnership with a Senegalese NGO (non-government organization).  After the training, men from 36 different villages were given the equipment to start their own apiary (most of them received 8 hives and 4 nukes (smaller starter hives used for capturing wild swarms.)  This tour that we were on was a follow-up to that training.  We visited each village and inspected the installation of the hives:  where they were placed, how many swarms they’d captured, the health of the hive, etc.  We also answered any questions that the new beekeepers had.  This was a really good experience for me for many reasons.  I saw many small rural villages far off the beaten path, visited 225 hives (138 of which were occupied), met some really interesting people who love beekeeping, witnessed an active swarm, and managed not to get stung, even once.  

Inspecting a hive installation

One of the numerous villages we visited

We traveled for three days like this (luckily I got a set in the truck)

Bee-“keeping” is a fairly new concept in this part of Africa, whereas bee-”killing” and bee-”having” have been around much longer.  Bee-killing involves raiding wild hives found in trees by setting fires next to them, smoking out the bees, and destroying the brood in order to obtain the honey.  This practice goes back centuries both in Africa and Asia, results in a smoky-flavored, prematurely harvested honey, and is clearly not a sustainable enterprise.  Bee-having is a step in the right direction and is also widely practiced.  Bees are housed in man-made containers (logs, gourds, or clay pots), but the comb is fixed to the container, not allowing for inspection nor manipulation/maintenance of the hive.  Generally, only the honey comb is removed, which allows the brood comb to stay intact.  The hive is protected and the farmer reaps his reward in periodic honey harvesting.  Bee-keeping, is by far, the most advanced practice but is not yet widely recognized in Senegal.  It implies the management and sustainability of the hive based on an understanding of the bee and can span multiple levels of technological involvement.  It promotes honey production and the health and proliferation of the hive.

On our tour, we were surprised to see many of the new beekeepers combining aspects of their former bee-killing or bee-having practices.  We found hives stacked up in trees, hives suspended upside down or turned on their sides, and hives positioned without protection.  Old habits are hard to break.  We gave each beekeeper advice on how to correct or improve their hive placement and spoke to them about the problems that they faced.  It really was a great learning experience for me, although I have to admit, after the 200th hive, I was starting to get a little bleary-eyed.  It didn’t help that every village we drove into had a crowd of young children who rushed our truck yelling “Toubab! Toubab!” and crowded around me “oohing and ahhing” at the color of my skin.  What first felt a little rock-star-esque, quickly became exhausting and downright unhealthy, as everyone of those kids, although quite cute, had runny noses, visible skin conditions, and probably lice, and by culture, each and every one of them felt obliged to shake my hand.  I emptied my bottle of anti-bacterial gel by the third day.

A group of kids gathering to see the Toubab

Misplaced hives (they're supposed to be on the ground)

And upright!

Rushing the car to catch a glimpse and touch my skin

We headed back to Kaolack late Sunday afternoon, but this time lucked into a Ndiaga Ndiaye that went straight through.  I opted to stay over at our Peace Corps Regional House that night and the next to do a little kitchenware and food shopping since I’m now cooking some meals for myself.  There were quite a few other volunteers there who were staying at the house on their way back from various and sundry New Years celebrations, so I was in good company.  Abdou and I have lined up some more work in the coming months and I have a few other projects that are starting to take root, so those many months of training are beginning to feel purposeful now.

Please take note of the new Photo-A-Day - 2011 link I added to the left side-bar of my blog page or you can click here.  I’m planning to capture a moment from every day in 2011 since it will be the only complete calendar year I’ll spend in service.

Happy New Year to all of you!  Jamm rekk (Peace only!)
Fatou