Hellooo hosers. It's been a long time, and I have more to say than I probably will get around to typing. For two weekends in a row we have had field trips to other cities in Senegal, both of which involved long long bumpy rides on a hired Ndiage Ndiaye (a little uncomfortable rickety bus from 1965 or some shit.. given that we have day-long field trips on Saturdays all the time this basically means that in the past 30 days I've had about 3 days off from school and these aren't really off since there is still homework to do. The first weekend trip was to Djiffer, south of Dakar by about 100km (160 miles). That doesn't sound like much but between all the stopping for educational lectures that I was barely energized enough to understand (the prof in charge only speaks French and Wolof) and the condition of the roads, it took like 6 hours to get there. The hotel was nice, 3 to 4 students sharing a hut with nice beds and mosquito nets; beaches near by, etc.
We went out on this little ass boat and learned some shit about local vegetation and pollution and then had lunch and playtime/swimming on an island..Djiffer is basically a ton of islands near the sea that are also the end of a river.. oh before I forget there is a girl here with a digital camera and she uploaded some pics. I haven't looked at the page yet but you can check it out.
Oh fuck what else..so heres a fun story for you. My host father decided about 8 days ago that it was really fun to tell me yaa ngi �aaw (you are ugly) all the time. I think its his fucked up way of getting me to congegate sentences in the negative, like how some dads throw their kids in the lake and tell them to swim or die. So my job has become finding new and fun ways to respond to this endearing game of his in Wolof if I can; in French if not. So I can say, d�gg la (it's true) or maa �aawuma (im not ugly). Or whatever. So on Wednesday I decided to respond with; tu mong (you tell lies). I knew immediately by Lamine's response (ee!) that this was not at all the thing to have said. The father proceeded to give me a stern reprimand for having informed him that he told lies; I tried to explain that I was just trying to play his game but I was so flustered by this unexpected turn of events that I wasn't able to express this very well and he lectured a little more and asked me if I understood. Well I understood the gist of what he had said and was eager to end the confrontation so I said Oui; Je m`excuse (yes, I apologize).
He left the room and Lamine asked me if I could tell people they were lying in the States and I said Waaw, ce n'est pas grave du tout (yes it's not at all a big deal) especially if they just fucking told me that I'm ugly. Really I could think of much more insulting responses to say than that! But I didn't say that last part..then Adie (host sis) figured out something had happened (she was tuned into my walkman and not the surroundings) and asked about it. Lamine explained and she also said ee! and tu est impolie (you are impolite).
Really, people; do you think I want to be impolite and make my home life difficult? Of course not. This made me angry--I said; no je n'suis pas impolie; aux Etats Unis ce n'pas grave de dire �a (I am not impolite, in the States it's not that rude to say that); she told me that in Senegal it's a crime. Well this was all a little much to deal with, suddenly having nearly the whole family jumping at me and because I unintentionally mortally offended my host father. I went into my room and proceeded to cry. And then I wanted to stop, but instead I cried a little more. And then I really needed to stop because we hadn't eaten dinner yet and I needed to get my shit under control before dealing with that situation which was certain to be completely uncomfortable. So I reminded myself that crying really wasn't changing anything about the situation and wrote a little.
Then the mother came home and came into the room greet me, and she was all smiles and bonsoir ma fille (hello my daughter). Bless her, I think her smiling face has saved me so many times - she I think understands better than anyone else in the family the situation (in general, being unfamiliar with the societal rules and two languages and very far away from my usual support structures) that I am in.
Wellll the next night I hung out with Ponge (this boy I'm sort of seeing) and the Medina crew (Medina is a neighborhood near downtown Dakar; sort of like the south side for you Madison peeps and like the Phillips neighborhood for you Mpls peeps only hella more crowded and poor--but probably wth less serious crime) until like 11pm so I didn't really see the father and the next morning I left at 6 am to go to St. Louis on the field trip we went on this last weekend.
Saint Louis is north of Dakar, it was the capital for years and years, there is a lot of French colonial style infrastructure there left from the colonial days. On the way there we took some sandy ass "roads" and had our usual million stops to observe some shit that most of us didn't have the energy to give a shit about (I tried really hard but I was really just too exhausted) and got lost in the Sahel (that's a desert) for like 2 hours; it was very hot-maybe 100 or 104 degrees F-and dusty and I was completely filthy from the air and sweating by the time we got to our hotel.
The hotel was incredibly swanky. The rooms were like little bungalows - two floors, a cleanclean shower with both hot and cold water as opposed to just on and off, air conditioning, fans, three lights, a beautiful beach, a pool and poolside bar, swanky restaurant...there were huge crabs all over the place. We ate curried fish for dinner, the closest thing to what I eat in the States that I've had here so far; except for when I made s'mores for my family.
Oh, but then on Saturday I was sick as shit. We took the everfucking Ndiage Ndiaye to some dam way up north over roads that were so bumpy you couldn't talk because your voice was vibrating too much; and this ordinarily would have just been sort of how it was but since I was sick I was just trying to keep liquids from escaping both ends like they wanted to. I really didn't learn anything about the dam or whatever we were there to learn about - I should have just stayed at the hotel and slept. By the evening I was somehow mostly better and we went to eat at a fancy restaurant on the river in Saint Louis (our hotel was just outside of the city) where there was a good jazz band; then we went to dance at Le Chaumiere, a night club.
So clubbing in Senegal is not really like in the States. Clubs open at like 11pm but people don't really get there until 12pm or 1am, and they dance until 3am or 5am. Also, you can buy a whole bottle of liquor from the bar to share with your friends. I didn't drink at all cuz I wanted my body to heal from whatever was wrong with it. The music is a mix of techno; Senegalese and American RnB/rap; reggae; and Caribbean tunes.
Some dumb guy decided to talk to me while I was sitting down and tried to tell me his father was a Marabout (Muslim religious leader) and his bro was the Ambassador to the States for Senegal. He tried to get me to give him my number and address and get me to come to his house and wouldn't stop talking about himself and how he could play the djembe (a type of drum).
Speaking of djembes, I had one made. It's really pretty and I have lessons starting; finally, this week. Aye. I'm typed out. Hey if you all have some questions please don't hesitate to ask cuz some stuff here that I would like to point out is starting to become old hat so I don't remember to talk about it..lots of love, k.
P.S. I think things are chill again with the host father and anyway I'm only in this family for a few more weeks before I go to the farm.
