Ok, back to the wifi and back to work after a very relaxing weekend in Dakar, especially with the cooler evenings after hot mornings. On Friday, after public health class (which, I have to say, is turning out to be one of my favorites even though I am auditing it, if only I could get my interest in biology/health to fit in better with my carrier plans!)I chilled at home with my host family, watching music videos on TV, because sadly I was too tired to go anywhere, plus I was needed for some translation at home too. Now that Amadou, one of my older brothers is back from his volunteer work in St. Louis, conversation is more interesting with another person, especially when he throws in some random English with the Wolof and French. Even though I speak English with everyone in MSID, English sounds weird when I speak it at home with my host family, because we always speak French.
Also my host papa has been more talkative lately which is cool. At home I’m blessed to have a dad who spends time with Mom, Robyn, and me when he’s not working and “bothers” us to find out how we are. It’s been a bit of a cultural adjustment here, but I think Papa Ndiaye likes me well enough. Last Friday, a cousin and his wife (very nice people) came over, and he introduced me to them. Maman, Papa, and I talked about what I thought about Senegal, and what I am learning at school. It was a surpise when the relatives asked me a question in Wolof, which Papa translated as “demander la route” or basically asking my permission to leave. This was interesting, and definitely an honor, as I’m a visitor in the house.
Saturday morning, I walked down the road to “My Shop” a round-the-clock convenience store cum internet café which turns into a sort of buy-and-mix-your-own-drinks bar after sundown (there’s really no US equivalent to this that I know of) to email in my paper on the role of women in Senegal. I was very proud of myself, because I made it there without being hissed at once and was only honked at by taxis two times, so I must be catching onto the secret of how to be somewhat inconscipucous xonq-nopp (another sobriquet for caucasians here like toubab, I think Maman said it means “red ears”).
At least, navigation is coming a lot easier and I’ve had a better time of directing taxis (and dealing with my absolute aversion to them), except for Saturday afternoon when getting to Yoff beach would have been a total fail without the help of a nice French-speaking fish merchant. He helped me find the rendez-vous point with the rest of the group from Sacre-Coeur on the beach, which was a much larger area than I expected. So far, Yoff has to be my favorite beach: minimal garbage, not too crowded, sandy, and gentle waves. I’m definitely going to miss living less than a mile from the ocean when I go back home. Although, I need to do a better job of taking advantage of things like the beaches while I’m here, but it can be tough to organize everyone with sporadic internet, and the school schedule.
Even if I haven’t gotten out in Dakar as much as I would like, I’m discovering things that truly are cultural that I take for granted as being universal which in itself is a good lesson. Take navigation: on Sunday, round two of finding the church did not involve walking through the HLM, but even showing the taxi driver the map with the church location circled did not result in a straight shot there. When the driver turned off the VDN (a highway) too early, I expected he would have gone back to the VDN to find the next exit according to the map and try that, but instead he stopped to ask a few people where the church was. After stopping by a large Catholic church, and the old location of the Methodist church, we were directed to the new location. Distance is also very different, given the poor condition of many roads (especially after a rainstorm) and at times heavy traffic (not just cars, but also a variety of buses, car rapides, trucks, and along the sides, carts and pedestrians.) Even something like Yoff beach, which is only about 4 miles from my house is what my host sister considers “far.” As I get to know the city better, I think I will be adding onto my “taxi stories” but even that is a part of the experience.
Peace from Senegal, and I miss you all. Hope fall is treating you nicely back at home.
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