Tambacounda Travels

 After a week of travel on the hot and dusty roads of southern Senegal, I can scarcely believe we’ve made it to this day of crazy costumes, jack-o-lanterns, and sugary treats!  As I have very little to report on Senegalese Halloween, which is pretty nonexistent (though we might actually attempt a costume pizza party on the terrace of our school later tonight), I’ll fill you in instead on my last week of exploring!



It's a small world after all!



Sunday was our major travel day.  After 8 hours of mild discomfort in the back row of a sept-place, Alex (my CIEE travel buddy) and I met Peace Corps Phil on the side of the road in Koumpentoum, Tambacounda.  Phil’s mother was traveling in Mali at the time and his father had just returned from a business trip from Dakar, so after a brief hello we crashed outside Phil’s “hut” for a few hours.  I use the term “hut” here loosely, as it was complete with a working fan, an electric light bulb, and a gorgeous outside “office” porch where we spent most of our downtime.  In the evening, the three of us wandered the streets of the town, with Phil pointing out sights of interest and Alex documenting every passing specimen of wildlife, be it rooster, sheep, or pig!   

Monday started off with a delicious breakfast of toppaloppa (my absolute favorite bread, whose name means “pound and beaten”).  We spent the morning making visits with Phil, checking in on people who are considering expanding their business or have ideas to talk through with him.  After an interesting half hour hearing from the town’s school inspector, I chatted with some of the tenants in Phil’s compound, university students from Dakar who are in the process of conducting a two month World Bank survey on poverty in Senegal.  We spent a relaxing afternoon swapping jokes, bananas and peanuts, and our thoughts on development.  That evening, Phil, Alex, and I met up with a high school teacher, and together we shopped for a good three hours for school supplies.  As one of his Peace Corps projects, Phil had helped to organize scholarship competitions for middle school girls throughout the country, with enrollment fees being award to the top nine winners and school supplies to the top three.  In Senegal, and particularly in more rural regions, girls are often forced to drop out during middle school to work as household maids or to get married, so it was really neat to see how people are striving to counteract this trend.  
Tuesday started off on a bright note, as Alex, Phil, and I painted a world map on the side of a local elementary school.  The teachers were thankful to an almost overwhelming degree, explaining to us how each of the teachers would bring their classes outside to teach everything from colors to geography and culture!  As the guys rested up after our artistic endeavors, I made friends with Khadjatou, the young family maid.  She let me help prepare our lunch of ceebu jen (the national dish of Senegal, aka fish and rice), which, as she only speaks Wolof,  actually means she mimed and cooked as I laughed and tried to follow along!  That evening, Alex and I joined Phil at Koumpentoum’s scholarship ceremony where we helped pass out the school supplies we had bought the evening before.  If I thought the teachers’ appreciation of our help that morning was disproportionate to the amount of work I had done, boy was I in for a shock that evening, as they thanked us with speech after speech— and here Alex and I had literally done nothing!  Just when we thought the ceremony was over, one of the school board members stood up and delivered a few final words: “We thank you; it is important to encourage girls in their schooling.  But what about the boys?  I propose we start thinking about the boys!  They live the same reality, you know.”  And on that rather bizarre note, the ceremony came to a close, and we headed to an evening soirée hosted some of Phil's friends in town who are JICA volunteers, the Japanese equivalent of Peace Corps.  Along with another student from Casa Blanca, we joined four JICA volunteers for an incredible meal of traditional Japanese cooking, all the while listening to music ranging from Edith Piaf to the Backstreet Boys, and swapping stories in a hysterical mix of French, English, and Wolof.  It was definitely an evening inoubliable- unforgettable!

Wednesday came around bright and early, as we set out to Tambacounda to meet up with two of Phil’s Peace Corps friends and their respective CIEE students.  From there, the nine of us took an Alxumdiluluy (an overcrowded baby bus) to Wassadoo, where, after a good half hour hike, we found ourselves in a beautifully lush hideaway.  We sat for hours by the river, looking in vain for hippos and spotting a handful of chimps and gorgeously blue birds.  After a meal of macaroni and orange juice, we were joined by Amanda, a health volunteer who lives in a traditional Pulaar village near the campement.  On the spur of the moment, six of us decided to join her for the night rather than making the trek back to Tamba, and so after another hour or so of walking and a quick Alxum ride, we made it to Medina darou Salam just before nightfall.  Once there, I helped Amanda pull water from the nearby well before joining her family for a dinner of smashed corn.  We were ready to crash early after our day of travel, so Amanda helped us improvise bedding all over her little compound.  Lucky me had the good fortune to claim a spot neighboring the sheep and the roosters, so needless to say it was a pretty eventful night!

Thursday morning we wandered around the neighboring woods of the village, spotting  fields of rice, corn, peanuts, and cotton.  After goodbyes all around (and many, “Why don’t you stay till tonight? Or tomorrow? Or next month?” from our generous village hosts),we journeyed back to Tamba, where we headed straight to the Peace Corps Regional house, which is one oversized fraternity house where volunteers go to relax after a long week in village.  After an hour curled up with a borrowed Agatha Christie novel, we enjoyed the delicacy of warthog for the first time at one of the volunteer's favorite hang-outs.  We spent a lazy few hours enjoying the food and company before heading back to the Regional House to get ready for the next day’s trip.  Back at the house, we enjoyed talking to volunteers stationed all over the country and made the most of our access to a kitchen by cooking up some mini grilled cheeses for the road.  At last, after making plans to meet up next time any of them make it to Dakar, we bid good-bye to our new Peace Corps friends and headed to bed.

Friday was spent on the road, with just a quick detour on the way so that a fellow sept-place companion could inspect a herd of sheep for Tabaski (an upcoming religious holiday in which sheep slaughtering plays an essential role).  As we waited, I received many tempting offers of sheep myself, but somehow I just couldn’t quite bring myself to shell out the minimum price of $300!  At last, the woman decided that none of them really passed muster (which might have been influenced by the fact that there was a mysterious coffin strapped on the top of our car, and thus no real place to put a mouton!),  and we rolled into Dakar by around 4:00 in the afternoon.

Though our week of traveling was filled with so many unforgettable moments—speaking Wolof with a new Japanese friend, being claimed by Khadjatou as her very own toubab, being offered a baby in Medina darou Salam, and eating warthog (aka Pumba!)—I could not help but feel happy to be returning home to my family.  “Our favorite American has returned!  We missed you so much daughter!” Papy Jo exclaimed upon my arrival…to which Mama Fat Kane added in her usual sarcastic (though secretly affectionate— I think!) tone, “Yeah.  Things were well, um, calm without you here!"

Happy Halloween, folks! 

Amy Diallo



Outside of Amanda's hut in Medina darou Salam



To Tambacounda and Beyond!

Thanks to regular doses of fish (not to mention a round of antibiotics), I am now fully recovered from my sinus infection, and just in time too!  On Sunday there will be a mini-exodus of toubabs from Dakar, as we head out in pairs throughout the country to spend a week in the life of a Peace Corps Volunteer.  I will be journeying by sept-place down to Koumpentoum, Tambacouda, which Peace Corps Phil (my future host) described as a “sizable road town.”  Having so enjoyed our night in a Gambian Peace Corps Village, I was almost a little disappointed to read that my site was so “urban”—that is, until I got to the part of the note where he refers to his hut!  As far as our activities for the week, Phil is a small enterprise development volunteer, and threw out the possibilities of fabric-dying, community-gardening, and school supplies shopping with scholarship winners, but warned not to count on doing any of the above.  I was relieved to read that the predominant local language is Wolof…which means that I will confidently be able to greet the neighbors, ask about each of their family members (up to the 4^th wife), and count to 100.  After that, here’s to hoping they’ll either speak a bit of French or be good at charades.  And now you know all the details of my coming week— primarily that there are no details!  One thing I do know: it is sure to be another grand adventure!

The average Senegales sept-place

Ba beneen yoon, 

Amy Diallo

Amy Diallo's Fish

Here is a quick anecdote to give you some insight into family life in Dakar:

 As I am currently battling my second sinus infection of the semester, my host parents decided it was time to take action.  When I came home from school Tuesday night, Papy Jo informed me that the reason I have sinus troubles is because I am malnourished.  He proceeded to patiently explain that I would be a much healthier woman if I were to eat more.  Not only that, but I would also have the added bonus of more closely resembling my host mother, Mama Fat Kane!  After politely nodding my agreement, I thought the matter was behind us.  However, after dinner, a woman came by our house with an enormous bucket of fish on her head.  After I helped the “fish woman,” as they called her, remove the ridiculously heavy bucket from its perch, Mama Fat Kane bought twenty-seven fish from her— all for me!  When lunch time came around yesterday, my brother was sent for one of “Amy Diallo’s fish,” and after helping prepare it I had the honor of eating it in its entirety!  I honestly do learn so much about Senegalese culture and way of life just from living with my family, but I have to say this was one bizarre lesson. I never would have dreamed that my sinus infections result from a deficit of fish in my diet…which I already eat on a daily basis!  Needless to say, I really hope I get over this sickness quickly, but in the meantime at least maybe I’ll gain some fish-cooking skills— there certainly are enough to practice on!

Fishily yours,

Janelle  

I’ve Had the Time of My Life…

Ten days ago I set off with one backpack and four good friends to explore the Gambia, the itty bitty country engulfed on three sides by Senegal.  Determined to see as much of the country as possible, our days were packed with dusty roads, friendly faces (Gambia, after all, is known as the Smiling Coast), lots of water bags, and many, many laughs.  Though I could probably ramble on for pages, I'll try to spare you and briefly(ish!) highlight some of the most memorable moments of our adventures below:

Saturday: We left our homes at 6:00 AM, stepping out the door as the call to prayer rang through the dark streets of Dakar.  Arriving in Farafenni, Gambia just before dark, we met up with my friend Mary’s friend Joanna, a Peace Corps member who has been stationed in Gambia the past two years.  That night we went out dancing in a discotheque attached to the hotel, where Gambian girls were quick to come to our rescue and teach us some of the latest moves!

Sunday: We headed to Kuntaur by gelli gelli, the Gambian version of a car rapide, and from there took a boat out to the River Gambia National Park.  We circled around Baboon Island for a few lazy hours, which is a haven for chimpanzees and home to baboons and hippopotami. Our guide identified each chimp by name—my favorite was Nelson Mandela—and reminded us that if a monkey happened to jump into the boat, the safety of the monkey must always come first…in spite of fact we were mere meters away from some hippos known for their rather aggressive temperaments!  Fortunately, the warning remained unnecessary, and after a few hundred photos we headed by horse cart to Bani, Joanna’s Fulla village.  Once there we were greeted warmly (in Pulaar) and an elderly woman led us in a welcome dance…after which she excused herself with the words, “And now I must go farm,” before rushing off!  As the village had never seen so many toubabs before, we undoubtedly scared a baby or two, but all in all we enjoyed an incredibly tranquil evening under the stars before heading to bed in Joanna’s lovely little hut.

Monday: We walked around an hour with Joanna through the mud (we felt rather adventurous, backpacks perched on our heads and all) to the village’s market day, where they sold what they called “dead white people’s clothes” among other homemade products; though at first I was struck by the morbidity of the description, Joanna hastened to explain their reasoning—“if they’re selling perfectly good clothes, they must be dead!”  After parting with Joanna and Mary, the four of us continued our journey by gelli gelli and taxi, heading coastward to the town of Kwinella.  On route, we were stopped a few times for police security checks— I will never forget the image of a giant, smiley man popping out of the brush, pointing subtly to the huge gun slung across his shoulder all the while wishing us the “nicest of evenings.”  Once in Kwinella, we walked an hour to Tendaba Camp, arriving just before night fall.

Tuesday: We set off on a morning excursion by pirogue (a small canoe) to Kiang West National Park, where we observed mudskippers (mutant frog/fish), Goliath herons the size of small children, birds the color of highlighters, and a lone crocodile lazily floating on its belly.  After a peaceful evening spent swimming in the camp's pool and gallivanting with some village children, we enjoyed a beautiful dinner by the riverbank.

Wednesday: After an early morning start, we travelled by gelli gelli through the booming market town Serekunda to the coastal neighborhood of Kotu.  After settling in, we headed to the beach, where we made friends with Khady and Ruby, two 16 year-olds who sell peanuts on the streets to save up for school tuition.  After a few games of chase and Gambian Duck, Duck, Goose, they gave us some valuable advice:  “If boys come up to you, you must always tells them, “Hi, shut up!’” Advice which I later put into good use when, on the walk back to the hotel, a man pulled over on the side of the road, jumped out of his car, and followed after me in hopes of aacquiring some phone numbers!

Thursday: We travelled to a remote artist village in Tujering, which turned out to be a funny little haven for artists, complete with splatter-pained huts, chairs in trees, and  doors leading to nowhere (or maybe Narnia)!  Though the resident artist was currently out of town, his young brother made a most entertaining guide, showing us the best—and worst—of the Tunbung community.  From the beautiful paintings and sculptures, to every single last bathroom, the topless Mandinke farming women in the backyard, and the family photos of one of their absent guests, Jean Pierre made certain we did not miss a detail of his charming home.  On the way back, we made friends with farmers in Tanji, who, when asked where we might buy some mangoes, responded by throwing rocks at their mango tree and handing us a sack of them!  

Friday: After a day wandering through the markets and lounging at the beach , we headed to the glamorous tourist-filled Senegambia district for some overpriced pizza and Coca Colas.  That night, we reunited with Joanna and an entire posse of Peace Corps friends and headed to their favorite dance club, Paparazzi, where we danced the night away to American favorites like Dirty Dancing hits and Justin Bieber!  We stayed out all night, heading back with just enough time before departing from our hotel at 5:30 AM.

Saturday: With a mere taxi ride, ferry, gelli gelli, horse cart, sept-place, plus another taxi, we made it to Dakar some 10 hours later —home at last!

Though initially sad to be returning to "regular" life and classes, my family was quick to show me that not all my adventures are behind me!   Yesterday morning, minutes after dragging my travel-weary body out of bed, my host mother informed me it was time to go.  Figuring the Mexican dress I’d thrown on as pajamas the night before was decent enough for wherever it was we were going, I dazedly jumped into a taxi with Mama Fat Kane and my brother Max.  To my surprise, we stopped at one of the most ritzy establishments in Dakar, just in time for the formal retirement ceremony of one of Papy Jo’s best friends, a colonel-medicin, the highest military rank in Senegal.   Following the ceremony, Mama Fat Kane proceeded to introduce me to National Assembly delegates over rounds of hors d'oeuvres…and so it was that I met a candidate for the upcoming presidential elections...in my pajamas!  Once again, c'est la vie!

 Ba beneen yoon,

Your Amy Diallo