Home Sweet Home

I still can barely wrap my mind around it-- I am now an official resident of Dakar!  Last week I was a visitor, albeit a very welcome one, but now I have a home here.  A new family.  And even a new name!  No more than ten minutes following my arrival than my host father Papy Jo exclaimed, “A name!  My daughter has to have a name!”  Having written my name down for them moments earlier, I sat there rather stunned, as suddenly it dawned on me that the heated Wolof conversation that ensued was a naming ceremony of sorts—for me!  They decided on "Amy Diallo" [pronounced Amie], after my host mother’s little sister.  Since that time, I have not once heard my actual name-- I suppose I am in the process of developing a Senegalese alter ego!

My mother, Mama Fat Kane, is a formidable woman and a skilled entrepreneur who cultivates rice fields in the north.  Though she constantly rotates between correcting both my French and Wolof, telling me what to do, and commanding me to eat, I have decided to believe that she likes me deep, deep down, as she does the same with her own grown children!  Papy Jo is a kind, good-humored man in his mid-eighties: after introducing me to Mama Fat Kane, he gestured wildly at the word “fat,” winking at me and whispering that we must not tell her what it means in English.  He is no longer able to walk on his own, so he spends the day sitting in the living room talking to whoever is there to listen—thus far, he’s told me stories about his psychology research in Canada, his experience advising the ministers of education in France and of desertification in Libya, as well his work with city planning here in Dakar.

Depending on the position of the moon, either tomorrow or Thursday will be the Muslim celebration of Korité, marking the end of Ramadan (and the fasting that accompanies it).  Because of this, there is currently a surplus of 15 people living in my house…as well as a sheep on the terrace, which I’m pretty sure we’ll be eating during the festival!

To give you a vague idea of what my interactions have been like with my family (which take place in a jumbled mix of Wolof and French), here is a quick anecdote that pretty much sums everything up:

Last night I had a conversation with my parents about how much I love to dance and ballet in particular.  A few minutes later, Mama Fat Kane asked if I would please sweep the house for her.  Unfortunately for me, the French word for sweep is “balaie,” and so, thinking I’d just been ordered to do ballet, I took off my shoes and turned a quick pirouette…needless to say, after staring at me speechless for a few minutes, the entire family burst out laughing, and tears ran down Papy’s face.

And then they gave me a broom…embarrassing, yes, but c’est la vie!

Ba benen yoon,

Janelle/ Amy Diallo

First Impressions

A car rapide,
our primary mode of transportation

Oh, Dakar!  I don’t even know what to think of the city, much less how to describe it to others!  The first word that comes to mind is “mélange”—a mix of colors and noise, of people and animals.  In one blink of an eye, you can take in a parade of bright yellow taxis, bustling markets, distant skyscrapers…and a herd of cows grazing in the middle of the median!

On the flight over, as I attempted to get in a few hours of sleep, I kept thinking about the fact that when I next woke my whole world would have changed.  Spotting the moon out my window, silly as it sounds I was kind of comforted, remembering that the moon lives in Senegal as well!  As we began our descent into the city, the Senegalese teenager I befriended on the plane leaned over in our row, eagerly pointing out landmarks from the window and making certain I noted Le Monument de la Renaissance africaine in her neighborhood of Ouakam—which happens to be the tallest statue in the world outside of Asia and the former Soviet Union!

 We stepped off the plane into our new world as the sun rose, and the dozen of us Americans who had been on the flight all kept looking at each other to make sure our jet-lagged brains weren’t fabricating this movie-like moment: the rising sun, the warm breeze, the whole country in fact seemed to be saying, “Welcome, toubab, welcome.” 

Already I see why this is the land of Teranga, hospitality.  Walking into a hotel or supermarché for a Coke, a quick wave or smile simply does not suffice.  Each person will stop you for the traditional Wolof greeting, which, once you know how to respond, can continue for a good 15 minutes.  “Asalaam maalekum” (peace be with you) is the key to unlocking the heart of the Senegalese—once these magical words have left your lips, you are well on your way to acquiring a new friend, one who will jokingly nudge you through your Wolof repertoire until they at last give up and allow you to switch to French.*

This week has been filled with the questions typical of freshman orientation week (Name?  Hometown?  Major?), with the 55 of us Americans racing to get to know each other before we disperse throughout the city.  There’s been lots of street-wandering, Wolof-butchering, stoop-sitting, and people-watching, and all the while our new reality slowly begins to permeate in: we’re here, in Dakar, our new home.

And tomorrow the real adventure begins—we leave behind the comfort zone we’ve created in our tiny American bubble at L’Hôtel Citronelle and move into our host families’ neighborhoods!  Though I’m nervous about meeting my new family, this is also the part of the program that I am most excited about. 

The rain has subsided for the moment, so it’s time to go wander a bit before our Wolof classes resume—I might even try bartering for some mangoes for the first time!

 Until next time, or, as they say in Wolof, Ba benen yoon!

 Janelle

*Though French is the official national language, Wolof is the lingua franca of Senegal, spoken as a first language by the majority of Senegalese.

The Basics

Who: Janelle, a junior at Rhodes College; a Religious Studies major, French minor, and social worker to-be (perhaps!)

When: August 20^th through December 19^th 

Where: Dakar, Senegal-- a teeming city of over 2 million and the westernmost African capital.  Famous for its legendary hospitality, Teranga, Senegal is home to the baobab tree, ornate mosques, beautiful beaches, portions of the Sahara, lots of mosquitoes…and Suffolk University, where I’ll be taking classes!

How:  I’m going via CIEE, the Council on International Educational Exchange.  Once in Dakar, I’ll be living with a host family, that is after week-long crash courses on Wolof, the local language, and Senegalese culture and survival!

Why: The hard question— the one my parents always follow up with, “Don’t you know that they speak French in France??”  The (long) answer would be that I love people and languages, and I hope to one day combine these passions by serving French-speaking African refugees in the U.S.  I hope to learn about the way culture impacts effectiveness of service, the way culture shapes a language…and in the meantime enjoy the rhythm of the mbalax music, the hospitality and stories of the people, the African sun—and yes, I’m bringing loads of sunscreen!

I want to attempt to live out what the French author Christian Saglio describes as « le tourisme intelligente » : « De ne plus ricocher sur le pays, en manquant tout, mais de pénétrer dans l’intimité des familles, c’est à dire d’approcher l’âme , » which means, for those English-speaking folks, 

“To no longer ricochet about the country, while missing it all, but to slip into the depths of the families there, which is to say, approach the soul  of Senegal.” 

Though my access to internet might be spotty at times, I’ll try to semi-regularly scribble quick updates of these attempts!

A bientôt, Janelle