So, today I have come to my favourite internet cafe next to "Nice Burger" for the last time ever. After 4 months in St Louis I am leaving, and very very sad about it. But I thought I'd give a potential last update of the blog while I still have reliable internet access.
4 months on, I really feel that St Louis is my home . . . I know all the areas, the best shops and stalls to by various items, the right price (not "toubab" price) to pay and all of the random characters of St Louis (scary one-legged man, creepy tongue man, bridge-shouting man, Hugh Fernly-Whittingstaw, Spanish trouser guy etc etc). And so the thought of leaving is really horrible.
But to look forward to, I have travelling. I leave tomorrow at 7am a sept-place to Dakar (the capital, 5 hours away) where Im staying just one night to visit la maison des esclaves (the slave house) which is supposedly beautiful and home to a nice museum about slavery. Incidentally, I am really missing museums so yesterday, for our second last day, Frances and I (the girl I am travelling with - from Sheffield, 19, going to Bristol to study French and Portugese) visited St Luois' only museum. It is a museum of Jean Mermoz, Aeropostale pilot, and Antoine Saint-Exupery, Aeropostale hanger-on and author of le petit prince etc.
After Dakar Frances, Liselle (who is bizarrely also from aberdeen) and I are travelling south to the Sine-Saloum delta where we will take a boat through the mangroves and sit by the beach. We are then continuing with a coastal tour of fishing villages and baobab trees. We are meeting 2 friends there so it will be a good group. Then Fran and I will leave the others and travel up the Gambia river, before heading to Casamance in the south for more of the same "tranquill" travelling.
We have decided in the end to stay in Senegal and Gambia as there is plenty to do for a month and all of Senegal's border countries, and thus potential travel destinations, read as follows on the foreign office website . . . Mali: Strongly not recommended for all but essential travel, risk of hijacking, terrorism, kidnapping, stabbing. Mauritania: Strongly not recommended for all but essential travel, risk of hijacking, terrorism, kidnapping, stabbing. Guinea: Strongly not recommended for all but essential travel, risk of hijacking, terrorism, kidnapping, stabbing. Guinea-Bissau: Strongly not recommended for all but essential travel, risk of hijacking, terrorism, kidnapping, stabbing. So in the end Senegal sounds good.
But returning to St Louis . . . over the last month since I last wrote I have been living quietly here with nothing too much to report. I have been working two days a week with street-children called "talibés". The whole concept is really fascinating. My first impression was that these were poor street children who beg for money etc but the reality is much more complex. They are boys who are sent from villages, often from fairly wealthy families, to learn the Koran from the religious leader, the "marabout". The Marabouts take up residence in abandonned buildings or just put a fences round a bit of ground and use that as the room where their boys sleep and learn the Koran. They are givebn no food, no clothes, no money and no education other than Koranic. They expected to beg for the above as a religious and humbling experience. The reality is often, therefore, horrible infections, malnutrition or even starvation and sometimes sexual abuse from the Marabouts. I have been with friends to help them in their project of working with a local doctor, basically picking off scabs, treating scabies and performing minor operations. I just dealt with the scabs which made me feel sick enough, but the boys who do it every day have seen some really awful cases and I think are finding it very difficult.
The project I have been working with in relation to this, however, is reaally positive. It is called "Daara vision Senegal" (the daaras being the places where the talibés live with the marabouts) and was set up by Papis, a local guy. It is only running in 2 daaras so far as the marabouts tend to be very suspicious of outsiders and unwilling to let them in. But in these 2 daaras, a volunteer goes in for 4 hours every day ( I do 2 days a week) and teaches numbers and french and plays games and washes clothes and does basic first aid. I could write pages about the 15 boys in the daara, they are such characters, ranging in age from 6 to 15. Oussmane, Denba, Aliou, Aliou, Samba, Mamadou, Mbaye, Solyeman, Zuberu, Samba, Omare, Douleil, Abdul-Aziz and Hamedou. The project is so amazing as they are so enthusiastic to learn, and you can see a real improvement as they learn to brush their teeth and wash and sew clothes etc.
I now have to go home for my last lunch with the family. I am so sad to go and am really going to miss them all. I hope it's Thiebouddienne for lunch.
Sunday, 31 May 2009
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
2 months (and a half)
So first of all apologies for the lateness of this latest blog post. The advantage of this, however, is that I have lots to relate.
Where I left off oh so long ago was just before my trip to the Desert de Lompoul. Every few weeks the assistant manager from Projects Abroad (Nicole, another fake-Scott with larger-than-average hair) organises a trip somewhere in the St Louis region for the volunteers. So a month or so ago a group of us set out in a giant monster truck to explore the sahel region about 4 hours south of "home". En route we visited a Mor village, which are the people of Mauritanian descent living in Senegal, and saw the different styles of living there - tents as opposed to thatched-roofed huts. We then arrived at our camp in the sahel which was spectacular but irritatingly difficult to capture in a photo - just miles and miles of sand dunes, landscape unbroken by buildings or any real vegetation. We stayed in mauritanian style tents and slept on mats on the floor, although we spent most of the night running and jumping off sanddunes and rolling down the sheer sand slopes. The highlight of the trip was a camel ride across the sanddunes which was fairly painful but worth it for the amazingness of having actually ridden a camel across the Sahel (only slightly ruined by the photos capturing ever-present hair-issues . . . hair = practically same size as camel).
Spurred on by that successful voyage into "African Africa" a group of us decided to spend our easter holidays (yes, they celebrate it here in a muslim country - any excuse for a day off School, work etc) travelling to South East Senegal, Bassari Country. This was pretty much my favourite thing I've done here so far. We travelled down for 18 hours (one stop for breakfast, 3 stops for road-side squatting, 2 stops because we drove off the road into a ditch and had to push ourselves out) in 2 sept-place taxis. These are cruelly uncomfortable Peugot 307's which someone has stuck 3 seats in the boot of, to make it 7 seat . . . needless to say knees-round-your-chin, crouched-over to fit your head, one cheek off the seat to make space for the other 2 people in the row. Nonetheless the journey was remarkably fun with all 7 of us the same age, from Britain, generally similar people we got on really really well.
On arriving in Bassari in 45degree heat and oppressive humidity we took several showers before heading with our guide to his village for the night. We then selected our sheep, "Natasha", and watched while it's throat was slit and it was skinned and disected for dinner - soooo tasty. Natasha having done us proud we set off up a bloody huge mountain, practically collapsing in the heat to meet the Bedik tribe. The Bediks lived genuinely like the type of story-book African tribe that I was too "liberal" and "non-simplistic" in my perception of culture to believe existed. But at the top of this hill, isolated from any big village or town by about 25km, the women walked around naked and they all prayed and sacrificed to the spirit of a tree under which twin babies reportedly experienced some miracle many milleniums ago.
We then moved on for the next night to another village where we heard about the initiation practices that young boys go through of fighting the "masqué". That night we slept outside on the ground and saw more stars than I have ever seen, 4 of them shooting, and 1 guy brought his guitar so we sang a mixture of Jeff Buckley and Britney Spears under the stars all lying together - it was very "trankill" as the Senegalese say.
The next day we visited the best waterfall in Senegal (apparently) which was beautiful. 100ft drop into this little pool perfect for swimming. We all stood underneath and recreated the Herbal Essences advert - very unsuccessfully; "ow, ow it's in my eyes, it hurts! Get it out, get it out!"
That being the end of our holiday we set back off for the further 18 hours home; many highlights, only lowlights = getting all the pool money stolen on day 1, and getting locked in the "Best Burger" toilets (no flush - the results 14 peoples visits all piled on top of each other) for half an hour before someone came and "steak-knifed" me out!
Back in St LOuis I am doing more teaching than ever before. I take several classes on my own for 4 hours which is a bit stressful, especially with the 11-13 year olds, but really fun. We sing wheels on the bus and hips don't lie and learn about modal auxilliaries, yesterday one of the girls told me that I was their most "gentil" (nice) teacher :)
I continue to spend more time eating than almost any other activity. So much so that it has become like a kind of science experiment to see how much weight it is physically possible to put on in 5 months . . . hypothesis: a lot, conclusion: yet to be reached.
Now I am preoccupied trying to organise more travelling for a month after school ends in May/June, but it is proving difficult . . . coups, hijacks, assassinations, stabbings, terrorism - nowhere in West Africa seems a viable option. So if anyone has a good suggested route, I would love to hear it. I am thinking at the moment about risking Guinea-Bissau and South Senegal's Casamance region rather then head inland where it will just be too hot, as these seem relatively safe.
Where I left off oh so long ago was just before my trip to the Desert de Lompoul. Every few weeks the assistant manager from Projects Abroad (Nicole, another fake-Scott with larger-than-average hair) organises a trip somewhere in the St Louis region for the volunteers. So a month or so ago a group of us set out in a giant monster truck to explore the sahel region about 4 hours south of "home". En route we visited a Mor village, which are the people of Mauritanian descent living in Senegal, and saw the different styles of living there - tents as opposed to thatched-roofed huts. We then arrived at our camp in the sahel which was spectacular but irritatingly difficult to capture in a photo - just miles and miles of sand dunes, landscape unbroken by buildings or any real vegetation. We stayed in mauritanian style tents and slept on mats on the floor, although we spent most of the night running and jumping off sanddunes and rolling down the sheer sand slopes. The highlight of the trip was a camel ride across the sanddunes which was fairly painful but worth it for the amazingness of having actually ridden a camel across the Sahel (only slightly ruined by the photos capturing ever-present hair-issues . . . hair = practically same size as camel).
Spurred on by that successful voyage into "African Africa" a group of us decided to spend our easter holidays (yes, they celebrate it here in a muslim country - any excuse for a day off School, work etc) travelling to South East Senegal, Bassari Country. This was pretty much my favourite thing I've done here so far. We travelled down for 18 hours (one stop for breakfast, 3 stops for road-side squatting, 2 stops because we drove off the road into a ditch and had to push ourselves out) in 2 sept-place taxis. These are cruelly uncomfortable Peugot 307's which someone has stuck 3 seats in the boot of, to make it 7 seat . . . needless to say knees-round-your-chin, crouched-over to fit your head, one cheek off the seat to make space for the other 2 people in the row. Nonetheless the journey was remarkably fun with all 7 of us the same age, from Britain, generally similar people we got on really really well.
On arriving in Bassari in 45degree heat and oppressive humidity we took several showers before heading with our guide to his village for the night. We then selected our sheep, "Natasha", and watched while it's throat was slit and it was skinned and disected for dinner - soooo tasty. Natasha having done us proud we set off up a bloody huge mountain, practically collapsing in the heat to meet the Bedik tribe. The Bediks lived genuinely like the type of story-book African tribe that I was too "liberal" and "non-simplistic" in my perception of culture to believe existed. But at the top of this hill, isolated from any big village or town by about 25km, the women walked around naked and they all prayed and sacrificed to the spirit of a tree under which twin babies reportedly experienced some miracle many milleniums ago.
We then moved on for the next night to another village where we heard about the initiation practices that young boys go through of fighting the "masqué". That night we slept outside on the ground and saw more stars than I have ever seen, 4 of them shooting, and 1 guy brought his guitar so we sang a mixture of Jeff Buckley and Britney Spears under the stars all lying together - it was very "trankill" as the Senegalese say.
The next day we visited the best waterfall in Senegal (apparently) which was beautiful. 100ft drop into this little pool perfect for swimming. We all stood underneath and recreated the Herbal Essences advert - very unsuccessfully; "ow, ow it's in my eyes, it hurts! Get it out, get it out!"
That being the end of our holiday we set back off for the further 18 hours home; many highlights, only lowlights = getting all the pool money stolen on day 1, and getting locked in the "Best Burger" toilets (no flush - the results 14 peoples visits all piled on top of each other) for half an hour before someone came and "steak-knifed" me out!
Back in St LOuis I am doing more teaching than ever before. I take several classes on my own for 4 hours which is a bit stressful, especially with the 11-13 year olds, but really fun. We sing wheels on the bus and hips don't lie and learn about modal auxilliaries, yesterday one of the girls told me that I was their most "gentil" (nice) teacher :)
I continue to spend more time eating than almost any other activity. So much so that it has become like a kind of science experiment to see how much weight it is physically possible to put on in 5 months . . . hypothesis: a lot, conclusion: yet to be reached.
Now I am preoccupied trying to organise more travelling for a month after school ends in May/June, but it is proving difficult . . . coups, hijacks, assassinations, stabbings, terrorism - nowhere in West Africa seems a viable option. So if anyone has a good suggested route, I would love to hear it. I am thinking at the moment about risking Guinea-Bissau and South Senegal's Casamance region rather then head inland where it will just be too hot, as these seem relatively safe.
Wednesday, 11 March 2009
1 month
After a month in Saint Louis de Senegal it is probably time to add something of the cultural side here to my (pathetically empty) blog.
To begin with the most exciting, I have been given a new Senegalese name by one of the families here. It seems that people have genuine problems with Western names (not in terms of pronunciation I might add, it is more of a principled objection) so like to give out new names. Accordingly I may now be referred to as ...
Penda Baye Seck Niang
Equipped with a new identity I have been (predictably) enthusiastic in trying all the different ways of life. I spend most days popping round to someones house for a cup of Senegalese tea (very strong and minty, served in shot glasses, takes about an hour to brew) where we sit and discuss Senegalese politics and culture, there is an election in 2 weeks. I have been attemting to de-busy myself recently in order to spend more time engaged in the slower more ordinary Senegalese activities like this.
This weekend we went to the beach where we were invited to a sort of artists commune for tea and Thieboudjenne, which turned out to be one of my favourite days so far. They taught me to play the Thiembaye (Senegalese drum) which I failed happily at. And we spent hours drumming and dancing and drinking tea, which appears to be the average day of most people here.
Having participated (badly) in much of the dancing and music-making myself, I have also been to see it done properly in various dance shows and concerts of which Wasis Diop was by far the best.
The previous weekend 6 of us took the 4 hour "sept-place" ride to touba, the religious capital and site of the biggest Mosque in Africa. I hope I can work out how to upload pictures soon so that people can see the mosque, which was utterly stunning. Enormous, all white marble with green and blue marble domes. Outside it was hotter than anywhere I've ever been, but within the marble it was totally cool and peaceful with people chanting and praying (literally) everywhere. Religion here is unique and bizarre. Up until the 20th century Senegal was predominantly animist i.e beleived in spirits etc and to a large extent many of these beliefs still hold. But around 1913 a man named Cheikh Amadou Bamba became a Muslim, rewrote many of the religious texts, preached widely across Senegal and consequently converted 98 percent of the population to Islam. The legends surrounding Bamba are extensive and confused; he never slept because sleeping was a waste of praying time, he performed miracles, he ate only a handful of rice per day etc. But he is worshipped as much as God. Every taxi, shop and house are full of pictures of Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba and his descendants. People also wear the pictures round their necks. I still find it slightly amusing that in most pictures the biggest religious figure in Senegal is wearing Ray-Bans.
The touba trip was fascinating in terms of learning the above and because we stopped to eat with a family in a village in central Senegal made up of the Poolaar ethnic group. While consuming the compulsory Thieboudjenne and tea we listened to them speak about the rivalry between the Wolof and the Polaar, the advantages of their polygymous family and and the life-and-times of Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba. The interest value was only slightly hindered byè my shaky French.
Next weekend . . . Camals!
To begin with the most exciting, I have been given a new Senegalese name by one of the families here. It seems that people have genuine problems with Western names (not in terms of pronunciation I might add, it is more of a principled objection) so like to give out new names. Accordingly I may now be referred to as ...
Penda Baye Seck Niang
Equipped with a new identity I have been (predictably) enthusiastic in trying all the different ways of life. I spend most days popping round to someones house for a cup of Senegalese tea (very strong and minty, served in shot glasses, takes about an hour to brew) where we sit and discuss Senegalese politics and culture, there is an election in 2 weeks. I have been attemting to de-busy myself recently in order to spend more time engaged in the slower more ordinary Senegalese activities like this.
This weekend we went to the beach where we were invited to a sort of artists commune for tea and Thieboudjenne, which turned out to be one of my favourite days so far. They taught me to play the Thiembaye (Senegalese drum) which I failed happily at. And we spent hours drumming and dancing and drinking tea, which appears to be the average day of most people here.
Having participated (badly) in much of the dancing and music-making myself, I have also been to see it done properly in various dance shows and concerts of which Wasis Diop was by far the best.
The previous weekend 6 of us took the 4 hour "sept-place" ride to touba, the religious capital and site of the biggest Mosque in Africa. I hope I can work out how to upload pictures soon so that people can see the mosque, which was utterly stunning. Enormous, all white marble with green and blue marble domes. Outside it was hotter than anywhere I've ever been, but within the marble it was totally cool and peaceful with people chanting and praying (literally) everywhere. Religion here is unique and bizarre. Up until the 20th century Senegal was predominantly animist i.e beleived in spirits etc and to a large extent many of these beliefs still hold. But around 1913 a man named Cheikh Amadou Bamba became a Muslim, rewrote many of the religious texts, preached widely across Senegal and consequently converted 98 percent of the population to Islam. The legends surrounding Bamba are extensive and confused; he never slept because sleeping was a waste of praying time, he performed miracles, he ate only a handful of rice per day etc. But he is worshipped as much as God. Every taxi, shop and house are full of pictures of Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba and his descendants. People also wear the pictures round their necks. I still find it slightly amusing that in most pictures the biggest religious figure in Senegal is wearing Ray-Bans.
The touba trip was fascinating in terms of learning the above and because we stopped to eat with a family in a village in central Senegal made up of the Poolaar ethnic group. While consuming the compulsory Thieboudjenne and tea we listened to them speak about the rivalry between the Wolof and the Polaar, the advantages of their polygymous family and and the life-and-times of Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba. The interest value was only slightly hindered byè my shaky French.
Next weekend . . . Camals!
Saturday, 21 February 2009
2 weeks (exactly) in
First of all, apologies for not updating this sooner. It has been really busy here since my arrival leaving me little time for internet cafe usage. I will, however, try to remember all that has happened to me in the last 14 days and the highlights of the "culture shock".
I live with a local family here who seem lovely, as far as I can tell with the language barrier. Having come to Senegal as a way of improving my French, I have discovered that French is hardly spoken on a day to day basis here. St Louis-ians (?) speak predominantly in Wolof, a local language of one of the biggest ethnic groups. They all generally understand French (with the exception of the "talibés" street children, and the maid Umi) but nevertheless I have enrolled in French classes to ensure I do get maximum French talking time.
As far as daily life goes, it is a slightly bizarre juxtaposition of imported Western ideas with traditonal culture. Since arriving the mother of the family has worn full "boubous" (traditional dress in beautiful fabrics and headdress) but yesterday appeared at the door in an adidas shell suit. Similarly the food we eat is a mixture of styles. Lunch never varies, and is always the traditional Thieboudjenn (prononounced - chey-boo-jun) which I have come to love. It is essentially rice soaked in lots of spices and chillis and limes served with fish, cabbage and carrots similarly soaked. Vegetables are rarely eaten, I am always being shooed away from the solitary carrot in the thieboudjenn which appears to be there exclusively for decoration. For dinner the more "western" stuff is served, always with mounds of onions. Yesterday was, thrillingly, egg and chips but with Dairylee triangles just placed on top alongwith onions and peppers sort-of mushed together. More exciting is the way we eat, all sat on the floor round one bowl with our hands - very messy but rather fun. About 10 to 20 people from the extended family are all present for this, as they are for most things here, extended family being very important.
The toilet situation - my biggest fear has resolved itself quite happily. When I first arrived the (outside) toilet was a whole in the ground which a toilet had been placed precariously on top of. But I got home from work last week to find it had been plumbed in with a flush and everything!! Still no toilet paper, however.
In terms of the work I am crazily busy atm, which is fantastic. I am teaching English to both 14 / 15 year olds and tutoring adults in the evening. The adult classes are going really they love me, which is always good. I teach both beginners and a really advanced class. In the advanced class we discuss the cultural differences between Senegal and Britain, which has been my favourite thing so far. We had a really fascinating discussion on gender equality and polygamy, which is the norm here in Senegal. And women's rights are a widely contested subject. In terms of the school I teach at, I am mostly observing classes for the present and since it is exam time I have horrific amounts of marking to do . . . which I am off to do now.
I will attempt to be more efficient at updating my blog in future, and once my parents have sent out my camera cord via DHL I will add some photos as well!
I live with a local family here who seem lovely, as far as I can tell with the language barrier. Having come to Senegal as a way of improving my French, I have discovered that French is hardly spoken on a day to day basis here. St Louis-ians (?) speak predominantly in Wolof, a local language of one of the biggest ethnic groups. They all generally understand French (with the exception of the "talibés" street children, and the maid Umi) but nevertheless I have enrolled in French classes to ensure I do get maximum French talking time.
As far as daily life goes, it is a slightly bizarre juxtaposition of imported Western ideas with traditonal culture. Since arriving the mother of the family has worn full "boubous" (traditional dress in beautiful fabrics and headdress) but yesterday appeared at the door in an adidas shell suit. Similarly the food we eat is a mixture of styles. Lunch never varies, and is always the traditional Thieboudjenn (prononounced - chey-boo-jun) which I have come to love. It is essentially rice soaked in lots of spices and chillis and limes served with fish, cabbage and carrots similarly soaked. Vegetables are rarely eaten, I am always being shooed away from the solitary carrot in the thieboudjenn which appears to be there exclusively for decoration. For dinner the more "western" stuff is served, always with mounds of onions. Yesterday was, thrillingly, egg and chips but with Dairylee triangles just placed on top alongwith onions and peppers sort-of mushed together. More exciting is the way we eat, all sat on the floor round one bowl with our hands - very messy but rather fun. About 10 to 20 people from the extended family are all present for this, as they are for most things here, extended family being very important.
The toilet situation - my biggest fear has resolved itself quite happily. When I first arrived the (outside) toilet was a whole in the ground which a toilet had been placed precariously on top of. But I got home from work last week to find it had been plumbed in with a flush and everything!! Still no toilet paper, however.
In terms of the work I am crazily busy atm, which is fantastic. I am teaching English to both 14 / 15 year olds and tutoring adults in the evening. The adult classes are going really they love me, which is always good. I teach both beginners and a really advanced class. In the advanced class we discuss the cultural differences between Senegal and Britain, which has been my favourite thing so far. We had a really fascinating discussion on gender equality and polygamy, which is the norm here in Senegal. And women's rights are a widely contested subject. In terms of the school I teach at, I am mostly observing classes for the present and since it is exam time I have horrific amounts of marking to do . . . which I am off to do now.
I will attempt to be more efficient at updating my blog in future, and once my parents have sent out my camera cord via DHL I will add some photos as well!
Friday, 6 February 2009
In Heathrow
As above. After my first flight being cancelled and having been told that I had 40 minutes to get to the airport and catch an earlier flight, I am now waiting in Terminal 2 for my flight a) to reach check in time and b) to snow-plough it's way off the runway.
This does not appear to be a massively auspicious start, but I remain postive and typically excited! Theoretical landing in Senegal time = T-9 hours!
This does not appear to be a massively auspicious start, but I remain postive and typically excited! Theoretical landing in Senegal time = T-9 hours!
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
Blog Created
3 days to go. Packing vaguely started. Packing really failing :(
So . . . to distract myself from the stress of trying to fit horrific quantities of stealthily acquired stationery into my rucksack, I have decided to defy my technological ineptitude and start a blog for my trip to Senegal.
This was suggested to me as the best way of keeping people updated on my adventures and generally making everyone uber-jealous. Better than mass-emailing because I can have pictures and also add to it whenever the mood takes me. Better than facebook because my family are old and don't have it.
Which leaves me with a blog, to be updated conscientiously by me and checked periodically by you. I hope it works. I hope you enjoy it. I hope I am prepared by Friday!
xxx
So . . . to distract myself from the stress of trying to fit horrific quantities of stealthily acquired stationery into my rucksack, I have decided to defy my technological ineptitude and start a blog for my trip to Senegal.
This was suggested to me as the best way of keeping people updated on my adventures and generally making everyone uber-jealous. Better than mass-emailing because I can have pictures and also add to it whenever the mood takes me. Better than facebook because my family are old and don't have it.
Which leaves me with a blog, to be updated conscientiously by me and checked periodically by you. I hope it works. I hope you enjoy it. I hope I am prepared by Friday!
xxx
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