A Baptism and a Funeral

Monday afternoon was a very exciting day because I had the chance to go to a Baptism party after class. The baby’s dad is a part of my host dad’s extended family, and I got to meet 50+ family members and close family friends. Although I had to miss the ceremony that was during my morning classes, I heard they chose the baby’s name and whispered “Amadou” in his ear. Little Amadou was very precious, and miraculously, slept completely through the din of the party. Most of the conversation was in Wolof, but it was fun to observe the family socializing. The closeness and chatter reminded me of the funeral reception I was invited to last week for a close neighbor, although there was also a lot of praying and eating of couscous at that celebration. At the funeral, there was also a rotation of people who would sing to their respective Muslim religious leaders (in Arabic) and it was interesting to observe the diversity of neighbors and family at the reception, most were Muslim, but belonging to different sub-groups and I believe I saw the Catholic neighbors too. It was nice that my host family invited me to the reception, and brought me up to introduce me to the family of the deceased so I could shake their hands. I was thankful that it was not necessary to wear a head-covering at the baptism like it was at the funeral reception, because it was very hot yesterday.

 At the baptism, while everyone was chatting, I played with 2-year-old Ahmed (who didn’t care that I can’t speak Wolof), and found out he was a big fan of my sunglasses. This resulted in an adorable picture, but since I forgot my memory card yesterday, that will have to wait until I have the camera adapter.

A big surprise for me was when all of a sudden, the griot showed up after the lunch. I was confused because this lady (at the time, I didn’t know she was a griot) did not have the family resemblance and when she spoke to me, her French was heavily accented. So, I was quite confused when she dropped a 5000 cFA note in my lap and started talking fast in Wolof. Everyone around me was laughing at us, and thankfully, my host sister Fatimata bailed me out and gave me a coin to give back to the griot in addition to her 5000 cFA. She explained later, that in modern times, griots find out about occasions and go around flattering party guests to ask for money. So much for the historian-diplomat-advisor-musician griots I learned about in African history class, I got to meet the party-crashing variety. My host family was laughing hysterically about this, because the griot was making a big deal about my appearance (I was the only étrangère at the party) especially round face which is not really a common feature in Senegal. Even though I’m able to pass for French, British, German, or Canadian around Dakar with my level of French, unfortunately there is no escaping standing out in a crowd, especially when there are vendors, taxis, and apparently griots involved.

A Weekend of Firsts

So where to start, it’s been a really busy weekend so no time for the wifi until today. I have to say, internet access has been a challenge, not so much in that I can’t live without the internet, but that everyone else is operating at the speed and in the manner of readily available and reliable wifi. Also, I have been trying for 3 hours today to upload pictures here, but the blog keeps shutting down when I try, so next post is going to be all pics. Again, I apologize for keeping you all in suspense and for writing so much, but here we go with the weekend:

On Saturday, I went back to Gorée Island with Mary (also in the MSID program) Sara, her Italian sister living with the family, and her Senegalese host brother Danny. The first time on Goree, we went together as the MSID group, and saw the Maison des Esclaves (slavery museum) and the Musee de la femme (women’s museum) pictures to follow next post. This Saturday, we just walked around the historical paths and swam in the ocean (yes!). If you ever have the chance to visit Goree, definitely go to the Maison des Esclaves.  It’s very powerful, especially the “door of no return” which leads out directly to the ocean where ships would dock. I hate to take up a cliché, but the only way I could describe the experience is that the Maison des Esclaves made the history I learned about the slave trade come alive. Afterwards, we walked around downtown, but bypassed the marché because it was very sunny, and the toubabs (fair skinned people) in the group were already burned despite high SPF sunscreen. I had my first marché (market) experience earlier in the week, at Sandagar in downtown. It was a mélée of a place, and it was tough to shop when the various vendors are constantly competing for the attention of customers but definitely a cultural experience. Now that I understand the bargaining process better, I’ll be able to buy something next time. I also had my first club/dancing experience, (lots of English music?! what?) which was cool since everyone in the group ignored the fact that I can’t dance.

To continue on the firsts this week, I also had my first experience getting lost in the HLM (habitations à loyer modéré, low-income housing) with Grace (another MSID’er) as we were making our way across town to find a protestant church on Sunday morning. It was quite a scene, and goes to show that Dakar is most definitely a city of contrasts and that people (in Senegal) are remarkably resilient despite incredibly difficult circumstances. In one part of the city, people have amenities like wifi and for the most part, reliable electricity, and in another, there is what I would describe as an open sewer in the middle of the street.  Thankfully, with the help of the taxi driver (he didn’t really speak French), his Catholic francophone friend we consulted for directions, and some folks from the church who had a car, Grace and I made it to the protestant church exactly on time at 10am, although it didn’t start actually until 10:15 and finished at 12:30. The service was great (especially the bilingual message in Wolof and French, how cool!) and the people all friendly toward us. Most were Senegalese, although we met two guys from the Central African Republic, and we heard there are often other ex-pats from various countries in Africa that come. Afterwards, we ate lunch at a restaurant with the pastor (I almost cried when my salad came out, because fresh veges and fruits [some of my favorite foods] are usually expensive and not easily available in Dakar) and then we got a tour of the west part of Dakar (Ngor, a former fishing village and now a beach and also the Yoff neighborhood).

I'm speaking... language?

I’m speaking…. Language?

So the language dynamic of this trip to Senegal has been different for me, living in almost a 100% Anglophone environment up until now. The first two days, I got headaches from speaking French. As I’m getting used to French, it’s harder to either interpret French/English at home for Haby (who can now count to ten in French and say hello). It's tough to listen to music in English which is what now gives me a headache, so I ended up switching to instrumental tunes. Sometimes, I forget which language I’m supposed to speak to whom or I’ll mix the two languages.

The fact that was inattendu for me is that language hasn’t been too much of a barrier for adjustment, (except for the friendly debates on religion one time and US foreign policy with my younger host brother, those were the hardest things I’ve ever done in French!) My tune might change if I leave the city for the internship phase, because French is widely spoken in Dakar, even if it’s not everyone’s first choice.

What has been a challenge is the culturally-based customs that manifest in the language. The salutations or greetings are a great example. I’ve gotten the basic Wolof and French forms of the greetings down (Asaalam Aleikoum, maleikoum salaam, nanga deff, maa ngi fi rekk, etc.) In Senegalese culture, verbal greetings in general are a way to acknowledge a person’s humanity; it’s in the nuances that you establish the amount of social distance. I’m still figuring out exactly who I’m supposed to greet. Lately, I’ve been greeting people in my neighborhood or near WARC, because I might see them again or they may know someone I know. For someone who is used to city living in the US, where you can mostly pass by people or acknowledge them silently with eye contact, a nod, or sometimes a smile, it’s been an adjustment to get over the instinct not to talk to strangers. 

Wolof has been interesting to learn so far, because as a foreigner, Senegalese people expect me to speak no Wolof, or if I do, to speak it well, so they laugh when I answer “tuuti rekk” (just a little) to the question “Do you speak Wolof?” This being my first time in a francophone country, I’ve never had the experience of speaking just a little French in a place where everyone speaks it. My vocab in Wolof is definitely less than 50 words, and Wolof class feels a lot like an interrogation at this phase (What’s your name, Where do you live, What do you study, Where do you study, What is this object, Who is that person, Where is …) although the professor is fantastic and class is actually  fun. I can tell my mind is able to process all of this faster each time. Improvement from when the prof said “Nanga tudd?” and here was me trying to answer…. [pause] Ngone… [longer awkward pause] laa tudd… ci Wolof. Plus, I’m finally curing myself of answering “Oui” (for yes) instead of “Waaw” (pronounced like the English Wow!)  As my host Maman says, petit à petit, ca vient.

First week of school ! (Senegal Style)

Last week was my first week of classes, and I am very excited for them, because the material is interesting and incredibly relevant for me! (Country Analysis of Senegal, Wolof, French refresher course, International Development of Education, Public Health, and Microfinance, and Research Methodology) and everything is in French, except Wolof which is a blend of French, English, and Wolof right now. The language levels range anywhere from international development overview class in “franglais” to Public Health in which we were all trying to figure out the names of some preventable but deadly diseases in French (along with some funny gestures, circumlocution, and trying to re-pronounce English words in French) to Microfinance. That was an interesting class, because the professor is very knowledgable in his subject area, but speaks softly. Not to mention that I had to try and explain the relation of real variables to money in the economy and later what caused the 2008 recession in French (the professor probably thinks I’m an idiot by now, but struggling is part of the learning experience, right?) I would say that all of the rest felt like taking classes in English, although the profs have to excuse my fautes because I still have issues with grammatical gender (le or la? un or une?) and some compound tenses.

It’s been fun being able to learn and discover not just at school, but at home also because my host family is totally obliging of me asking questions and is not afraid to correct me or explain things when I take missteps. They really enjoy when I try and speak Wolof, although they will still speak French when I’m actively involved in the conversation. The latest victory was my brief conversation with our maid, Mariama, who speaks about as much French as I do Wolof which is good, because I feel terrible for managing to track so much sand in the house even though I empty my shoes outside (I wonder how long it will take me to say all that in Wolof). The inside joke of the week (which has taken over “look out for the bones” from the week before) has been whenever I walk into the living room someone will say my Senegalese name “Ngone Ndiaye ” and I’ll say their name back and “ca va?” (how’s it going, what’s up? in French) and everyone laughs. They especially enjoy teasing me in Wolof when I get tired and speak really goofy French which sounds like French with English grammar and pronunciation.   

I'm going to be on Senegalese TV!!!

Ok, so today was supposed to be a picture posting day and talking about my first week of class, plans for the weekend, etc. for the blog, but internet time got cut short because I'M GOING TO BE ON TV TONIGHT.

Two reporters from the TFM station came to the West African Research Center (WARC) where we have class to interview some of us about our experiences on 9/11/2001 and how we view terrorism and Islam today. I think we all got asked similar questions, so I am curious what pieces of the interviews will be on TV. In my interview, I told the reporters in French (hopefully I didn't embarrass myself too badly) about how I had just gotten to school (6th grade) when the second plane hit in New York, and how I don't hold the terrible tragedies caused by extremists against an entire religion, ethnic group, etc. and am getting along fine in Senegal.

Anyway, I promise there is more to come, because amongst my other plans for the weekend I plan on parking myself at a wi-fi hotspot and doing some catch-up.

Jamm (peace) from Senegal!

La Famille

This past week I spent two days exclusively with my host family, including the Muslim holiday of Korite (Eid al-fitr, the end of Ramadan) in which we delivered Tchakri (orange blossom/vanilla yogurt with couscous) to our Catholic and Muslim neighbors and hung out with them. It was fun to meet them all!

So here's a quick look at the family (when I finally remember to bring my memory card I'll add some pictures)

Papi (a retired math teacher who like watching documentaries)

Maman (a sweet lady who patiently teaches me Wolof and answers all of my questions. Since it's her summer vacation she is home a lot, but usually teaches 7 year olds at elementary school)

and my host siblings... the twins are both 30, but in Senegal it's the norm to live at home until you get married.

Gorgui (he is a nurse and works with different NGO's. LOVES to talk and tell me to eat)

Khady (she works in a medical lab, loves music and is teaching me to dance)

Amadou (23, he makes really good Ataya, the traditional tea and is a university student)

Fatimata (21, she is the same age as me and helps me with a lot, like figuring out chores, how to ride the car rapides [a sort of bus], and translating wolof comedy shows for me. She is a student in the university Finance, Banks, Insurance program)

Thierno (turning 19 in a month, he likes to watch sports and pray. He is learning English for his bac [the extremely difficult high school exit exam] so we teach each other English-French vocab especially during sports games and while playing scrabble in both languages).

The newest addition is “Haby” (her Wolof name, she’s named after Papi’s grandma and I’m named after Maman’s grandma) who is an 18 year-old student from Utah on a different program. I commend her courage for coming to Senegal when she knew no more French than “bonjour, oui, non, and merci” on arrival and no Wolof. It’s been fun being her “interprete/traductrice/prof de francais” although the French, Wolof, English language triangle going on at home makes my head spin sometimes, because everyone is talking to me in one of the three, often at the same time. I’m hoping Haby will give me some good tips in return, because she can already eat with her hands 10x better than me and I’ve already been here a week.

Maa ngi dekk Mermoz Premiere Porte ci Dakar...

Thank you everyone for being so patient with this blog post. With a crazy but fun orientation schedule, I've had to adapt to WAIT (West African international time) in order to get to know Dakar, MSID staff, my fellow MSID'ers, and host family (in addition to thirty to forty of their family members, neighbors, and friends). It's amazing to be here, and I am surprised so far how comfortable I am with adapting the city and the culture and in French. It's still tough for me to get used to the pace here (including that of the wifi here at school) and also to answer to my Wolof name "Ngone."

First impressions of Dakar is that it is a city of contrasts. If you have ever watched the film "La petite vendeuse de soleil" it gives you a pretty good idea, glad I watched it before I came. On the same road, (fyi they usually are not paved and sidewalks are "par hazard") there are cars, lots of yellow renault taxis, clandos [regular cars used as taxis], car rapides, TATA buses, regular buses, and horse drawn carts. So far, I've only braved the yellow taxi twice and the car rapides once, I usually prefer walking with the group. A lot of the city is what I would describe as "half built" because I found out that buildings are renovated on an as-the-money-comes basis. The ocean is everywhere and very beautiful (the beach is fun too!), but there is also a lot of garbage in the city due to an interesting sanitation system.

 I can tell though that people take pride in their neighborhoods, and especially in their neighbors, who are like extensions of the family. All of the neighbors have been very friendly towards me. I talk with them in French, because my Wolof vocab consists of some greetings, counting to five, "I'm going to school/study", "I live in Mermoz Premiere Porte", "my (first/last) name is" and "I'm full, thank you." Definitely more to come since classes (including Wolof) start this week.

In and around my neigborhood, there is always a lot going on. Farm animal sounds (the Tabaski holiday is coming up, and it involves "moutons" (sheep/goats) so people keep them as well as chickens even though it's an urban area. For the most part, this doesn't bug me at all, except the rooster that thinks it is necessary to crow 15+ times in an hour. There are kids playing, babies crying, neighbors talking, and lots of airplanes because we are extremely close the airport, all of this again isn't bad but can be tough when you are trying to fall asleep. You can smell firewood burning in small charcoal burners which grill and heat water for Ataya (the tea), exhaust, the ocean breeze, and whatever people are cooking. It's been fun to observe and discover so far and I am looking forward to seeing even more.

During orientation, we took a small tour of the city and also went to Goree Island (picture and description to come). I still have yet to go to a market, although I have been a few times to the boutiques (think, corner store), what is called the "toubab store" to buy shampoo for my kind of hair, and a supermarche. Today, my host sisters are taking me, and the new American student that lives with us, to "Nice Cream" which is an ice cream shop in downtown.

I'm very glad in all of this that I have taken French, and have been pleasantly surprised how much I have been able to converse (although there were some important words I didn't know like "fan" for example). It's been a favorite game of the neighbors to guess where I'm from. The most popular answers are France and the UK, which was another surprise. One merchant at a boutique thought I was Spanish, which made me laugh (I totally confused the guy as to why I was laughing). So far, I haven't felt targeted for being an American per se, but the tough part is you can't hide skin color and all of the obvious stereotypes that go with it which is a good lesson for me to learn in person. It will be interesting to see how that goes as I meet and talk to more people.

Look forward to more updates soon :) Miss you all!