Christmas break

Christmas in Popenguine was lovely. It is such a treat to sit on the shore, listening to the waves rumbling against the sand. And church bells mingling with the Muslim call to prayer. My idea of a good time nowadays is a glass of wine and stuffing myself with food, none of which are rice! So I ate a lot, and it was fabulous. Coming to the regional house is an opportunity to be American for a few days, to cook my own meals exactly how I want, to speak English with people who understand the ideas I'm trying to express, to watch a movie or two, and detox. As well as go to the bank, the post office, the grocery store, the market, and a variety of other big-city chores that can only be accomplished away from my tiny village. Also, the full-length mirror provides the opportunity for a "state-of-the-union" look at myself. I look okay, though signifigantly less clean than I was back home on a regular basis. But it's funny, because I have only a compact mirror in my hut, so I sometimes go days without taking a real look at myself. We admire our appearance multiple times a day back home, and here it ceases to matter. Tomorrow morning I head back home. While it's nice to get away sometimes, I know I'm in a good site, because whenever I approach my village after a short time away I can't help but smile, and I quicken my pace when I see the little hat-shaped thatched roofs peeking out from behind the brushy trees. So I'm looking forward to that, but not the ride to Nioro. I try to take a 7-place taxi which gets me there faster than the mini-busses, though still it is never comfortable to be crammed into a car with six other passengers (plus a driver) dodging potholes and occasionally off-roading on the way to the garage. A run-of-the-mill public transportation experience!

Tabaski

The Tabaski celebration started last Thursday, and went something like this: in the morning I woke up and put on my nice outfit, only to go outside and find that most people were going about their daily business in their same old everyday clothes, with the exception of the men and little children who dressed up to go pray. I, therefore, wandered around and chatted with a few people at the boutique, all the while receiving compliments on my clothes. "Yaangiy noos!" is what they said the most, which translates something as "You're having fun!" but seems to carry the underlying implication of "You have a lot of money so you can enjoy yourself and your clothes are also fabulous today!" Anyway, I went home and learned a new greeting: "baalma ac", which apparantly is what is said to people during Tabaski. Eventually, the parade of well-dressed people returned from prayer and gathered in a spacious courtyard near the chief's house. The men stood in front, while I found a group of older ladies and joined them in sitting on mats behind. There was a long spell of praying and chanting, most of which was incomprehensible to me, and before long people began to disperse. I got up to greet my usual crowd, when I realized what had been going on, because the carcasses of four rams were laying there with their throats slit. As I walked the short distance home, I passed several sheep in various stages of being slaughtered and butchered. It was interesting to observe how they do it. In the US our meat comes in pretty plastic packages, and we don't really know how it got there. How many people could pick out the flank of living the cow their flank steak came from? Anyway, the idea of high-quality steaks is pretty much unknown in the village. The meat was chopped up by the men into chunks compromised of all manner of bone, fat, meat, organ and gristle. There was some pattern to it, though - we ate the organ meats that first day, while the haunches were saved for Friday's lunch. Anyway, once the meat was prepared I joined the women in the kitchen. We made a series of peppery soups with bits of meat and slurped them up, all while working on the chef d'oeuvre: a thick sauce of meat, onion, fried potatoes, macaroni and oil, spiced with the usual bouillon. I contributed by peeling all the vegetables, chopping onios, and pounding peppercorns. The overall sense of excitement permeated everything. Everybody was in a great mood, laughing and snatching bits of piping-hot meat from the pot. I can't really describe how tasty it was in comparison to the usual monotony of mafe (a kind of peanut butter sauce) and rice. And protein, real concentrated protein was such a treat! Eventually, our sauce was finished, and we ladled it into bowls which were carried to the chief's compound. There, all the neighborhood women were gathered, along with dozens of loaves of bread. We waited for everyone to arrive, then dug into the meal, scooping up mouthfuls of the stew with bits of bread. You don't savor a meal here in the same way as back home. Instead, you "lekkal ba suur" - eat until you are full - which usually translates as eating as much as possible in as short a time as possible. It was delicious, though, and afterwards people relaxed and chatted for awhile before ambling home to shower and change. Here's where the pretty clothes come in! After sudown, around seven o'clock this time of year, everyone dressed up in their finest complets and boubous to go visiting. The moon being nearly full, there is so much light in the evenings a lamp is unnecessary; it's an enchanted time, full of moonshadows. Children wandered from house to house, collecting money for sweets or tea. They also accepted peanuts, corn, or millet. A small sidenote: the women will use these crops like cash; they will take a few kilos of peanuts to the boutique, weigh it, and exhange it for other goods such as spices or rice. Also, a man comes by in his horse charette every day and he will exchange fish for any of those grains, which are later resold in the market. The overall feeling of Tabaski for me was a cross between Thanksgiving, Halloween, and Christmas, though all of course considerably less commercialized than their American counterparts. In other news, it is now bissap season in the village, which means that the women go out into the fields to harvest the fleshy blossoms (which are actually the fruit of the plant, not the flower, though they look like a flower and not a fruit) and then spend all afternoon peeling the bissap off its core. I usually join in this venture, which is relaxing in the repetitiveness of the action. It's also a good opportunity to listen to the women and talk with them. I get along really well with the women of the village, and it's nice to spend time with them. The bissap harvest was put on hold for Tabaski, but will be starting up again soon. To dress myself up for the celebration, I put henna designs on my hands and feet, which was super-fun! I think I'll do henna just for "noos" later on, because it looks cool but doesn't last too long. Anyway, that's about all. I have had probably as much meat in the past three days as I'm likely to see the entire rest of the year, and soon it will be back to businss as usual. Christmas at the beach with the rest of the Kaolack crew is next on the agenda!

Waiting

I now have something of a routine, as I've been in site for almost three weeks. Mostly I don't do a whole lot. In the morning I greet people, and maybe go to the boutique to buy some beignets (a lady named Amy, one of the boutiquiers, makes them fresh every morning - millet beignets are delicious!) and hang out with the family. Sometimes I stay at home and read, sometimes I wander the village and chat with various families. Lately, almost everyone clears out of town for the day, to sift through the earth for stray peanuts. The women are especially adament about this. They want the extra money to buy new clothes and meches for Tabaski. "Meches" are hair extensions that the women weave into their own short hair, to make long braids. It's a lengthy process, and in the afternoons almost all the women in the village can be seen sitting in the shade, braiding each other's hair. Tabaski - a big Muslim holiday - will be celebrated soon, shortly before Christmas I believe, and involves killing a sheep (in rememberence of Abraham, who killed a ram instead of his son) and apparantly new clothes as well. I do not have new clothes or meches, but I think I will bust out the old Korite outfit and take lots of pictures of everybody looking their best. Meanwhile, time passes slow in the village. In terms of actual work I have none, except what I make for myself. Due to the water shortage in Keur Ali Gueye, I thought encouraging people to have small container gardens makes more sense than a large-scale gardening project. So, I have three tires in my backyard, planted with collards, onions, and carrots respectively. We'll see how it goes. People don't seem too impressed so far. They are impressed, however (and a little bemused) that I insist on going to the well myself every day to draw water, instead of letting my little sisters do all the work for me. I carry my two yellow tubs to the well and wait my turn to step in and add my meager muscle to the pulley rope, drawing up water. The women laugh, but I refuse to give up, and lately they've been saying, "Abbi men na!" - Abbi can do it! - which is clearly a big surprise. I only fill the 20-liter tubs a little over halfway, but I carry they home myself. On my head. Actually, it's much easier to do that than to haul them home by hand; my back is much stronger than my arms. Anyway, as you can probably tell, I'm quite proud of myself for doing the work. The one break from the daily visit to the well came last weekend, when I was sick for the first time. This is not fun. I stayed in bed for two days, feeling wretched, but after that things got better, and now I am back to normal. Well, as normal as someone raised on American food can be while existing on a Senegalese diet. Each Tuesday, I head to Nioro for the market to buy vegetables. It's a busy place, as people from villages all around go there once a week for their shopping. Also it's perhaps the only time I will ever be mistaken for being Japanese; there are some Japanese volunteers there as well as Americans, so children's shouts are split between "toubab!" and "japonais!". A refreshing change from the norm. Otherwise, I spend my time hanging out in the village, talking to people and trying to get a feel for what activities they may be interested in. Already I have found some families with whom I am comfortable, so I go there often to chat. Sometimes we drink sweet tea, which is quite a ritual in itself: they heat a tiny teapot on a brazier, fill the pot with tea leaves and sugar, and cook it until it's very concentrated. Then, then fill a shot glass and proceed to pour the tea in a high arc from one glass to another, back and forth, creating foam on the top. By the time it's actually served the tea is thick and heavily sweet, hot, and you slurp as you drink it. Tasty, though terrible for the teeth.
I forgot before to post my new mailing address. I love mail! Here it is:

PCV Abigail Fay
BP 2089 Ndorong
Kaolack, Senegal
West Africa

The guys at the post are really nice; they're used to Volunteers.

A new home

Well, it's really started now. I am installed and (mostly) unpacked in my own place, in my new hometown. How to describe my first week there? I don't know even where to begin! So I'll stick to straight-up description. I now live in a hut, a pretty spacious one, in fact, and a backyard "douche" area that is fenced with "sakhet" - village fencing, which is dried stalks wired together so you can't see through them. Mine, though, are old so there are a couple small gaps, which means I try to bathe at night, which feels so wonderful anyway. Back to the hut. It came equipped with the following: a bedframe and a set of shelves where my clothes and books are now piled, several cracks in the cement wall that I will need to fix, a brand-new lock on my aluminum front door, some nice wall paintings done by the previous Volonteer, and two cats. My cat's name is Lola - also a souvenier of the girl who lived there before me - and her grown kitten "doom u Lola" (Lola's child). These two charming felines have made themselves right at home with me. Their favorite activities are tripping me by winding around my feet when I'm trying to dress, climbing onto my lap when I'm reading, hovering around the lunch bowl and occasionally trying to steal the fish, and eating lizards on my floor. At least I have no rodent problems! However, my hut is a favorite hiding place for frogs, who try to come inside to escape the heat of the day. I end up chasing several of them out in the mornings; they like to hide in the corners or under the bed. My backyard is actually really nice! My "toilet" is discreetly located in the midst of several bushy plants, some with flowers, one a producing eggplant and one normous basil bush. When I go out there the scent of basil welcomes me. Also, there are a few baby fruit trees (mango and guava) which I water each evening with the water I have left over from washing myhands or bathing. It's not too soapy, and I hate to waste it, and so far the plants don't seem to mind.
My new name is "Abbi Gueye", which is super-easy to remember since it sounds exactly like "Abigail", so I lucked out there. And my family is great, too. I live in the compound of my counterpart. My hut is one of five: one for each wife, one for the dad, one extra (or visiting kids, I think) and mine. We share the courtyard with fluxuating families of chickens, ducks, goats and sheep; next to my yard is a space where hay is piled and two horses and a donkey are hobbled. There's a cashew tree in the middle of it all where my dad ties his charette when it's notbeing used. The livestock only slightly outnumber the children, however. Xale yu bare! Of all ages and sizes, they are everywhere, all the time, and mostly adorable, though also very curious. It's commonplace for me to see crowds of kids staring into my hut, or following me to the boutique, or sitting on the mat where I am. It's cute, really. So, my week has been a little crazy, as this is the first time I have really and truly been on my own here in Senegal. I spend lots of time each day walking through the village, chatting with different families (trying to get them all straight) or sitting down to have a cup of tea with them, or help harvest peanuts from the mountains of plants that are scattered all around the village. This is the major activity at the moment. Everywhere you go peanuts, peanuts, peanuts, with women and children crouched around the edges of the pile, reaching in to grab a plant and pulling off the nuts. They do this all day long, and when all the nuts are gathered they sell them in town. It's not physically hard work, but tedious and so far never-ending. Yesterday I went to a peanut field for the first time to see how the harvest is done. My dad hooked his horse up to a kind of plow, while the kids (and I) hurried ahead to pull up bean plants that had been planted alongside the peanuts. The machine digs up the plants by the roots, and it's slow work. Once they've been uprooted, women followed along behind gathering the plants into piles which will be easier to collect and load onto carts to take into the village, where the peanut pulling will happen. There's something very satisfying about working in a field, sweating alongside everybody else and getting your hands dirty, seeing the fruits of your labor slowly increase before your eyes. It gives a real sense of accomplishment.
Mostly, though, I've spent my time wandering aorund, greeting people and introducing myself while trying to orient myself in my new home. It's a mid-sized village, with enough amenities to keep everybody happy. A man with a cart comes through every morning selling fish, and there are two boutiques and a tiny vegetable market. In the center of town is one well, very deep. The women pull water in the morning and evening, when it's not too hot, and carry full buckets of it on their heads. I've tried this but it's so hard! I'm determined to learn, but mostly they just laugh at me and somebody takes my bucket for me. I will do it myself at some point, though! It will take practice. The first time I took a bucket home I got soaked, so now I use "bidons" (yellow tubs with handles and lids) which are more convenient anyway, though also heavier. Everyone has been very nice to me so far, and I'm slowly making the rounds and meeting them all. Each morning I must greet the imam, the village chief, and my grandmother - luckily all of whom live near my hut. The rest of the day I divide among my family and the neighbors, sometimes talking, mostly helping with the peanuts and letting the fast-paced Wolof conversation roll around me.
This experience is different from anything I've ever done before. Nothing I have accomplished thus far in my life really could have prepared me for it, but I am happy to be here. There's so much to do! At the moment I am in Kaolack again. The Volonteers of the region are gathering here for a bonafide American-style Thanksgiving dinner at a restaurant in town. I'll stay here one day, then take a sept-place car down to Nioro du Rip and walk (or, maybe, hop on a horse or donkey charette) back home.

Kaolack

Here is a picture of the Sustainable Agriculture group, with Youssoupha our tech trainer. He is awesome - he bought us ice cream to celebrate the end of training! I am writing this from an internet cafe in Kaolack city. As you may have surmised by now, I made it safely here with all my things. So far I am loving it! I feel very lucky to have ended up in the Kaolack region. There is a real sense of community among the Volonteers here, and there are a lot of us, so it is hard to feel too nervous or lonely. Our regional house is small but still there's plenty of room for us to relax, which is a high priority for everyone now that we are done with training. Now, we make our own schedules. At the moment, the house is cluttered with people's stuff - suitcases, water filters, stoves, mattresses, all tossed into semi-orderly piles around the place. These will gradually diminish as people are installed, one by one, in their sites. I will be among the last; the Peace Corps car is picking me up on Friday to take me to my new home. I haven't had much time to mull over this, thankfully, since we have kept busy since our arrival yesterday. Kaolack's claim to fame (among its other charms, which I'm sure I will learn during my stay in this region) is that it can boast the second-largest covered market in West Africa. It is truly an experience unlike any other. The market spills out into the streets, with garish items for sale on every corner. There is some organization. It seems like the used clothes are sold in one area, fish in another, and vegetables in a third. There is even a "gris-gris" market. Gris-gris are a popular fashion statement among Volonteers. They come in many varieties, from what I can tell mostly involving a string or leather thong with beads or something hanging off, and they can be enchanted (I don't know if that's the right word...blessed, maybe?) to provide protection. I think you can request them for specific situations, too. Somebody mentioned once that a Volonteer ordered one specifically to get a good grade on the LSAT. Every little baby I've seen has one around their fat bellies, and sometimes in necklace form as well. I haven't bought one for myself yet, but if I'm anything like the rest of my Peace Corps coworkers I too will soon be walking around with gris-gris hanging off all my limbs. We new Volonteers are in the midst of our installation shopping spree, buying all the things we think we might need. As I know next to nothing about my site, I'm trying to cover all my bases. So far, I bought a few buckets, some plastic bowls and plates, a couple chairs, cooking pots and utensils, mugs and cups, a village broom (dry grass stalks bound together at one end; they work so much better than plastic brooms!), a woven mat, a mattress with foam pad, a gas stove, a strainer, sheets...and the rest slips my mind. I have a lot of new things, but I think now most of it has been bought, as the rest will need to wait until I actually see my hut and know definitively what I need. One of the cultural aspects I dreaded most before coming here was bargaining. Not being a naturally pushy person, I didn't like the idea of having to battle down a price, especially not knowing what the proper price should be. But - surprise! - I like it! Probably I still end up paying more than I should for some things, but bargaining is easier and much more fun than I ever imagined. You just greet the seller as you would anyone else, then ask them how much it costs. If you don't like the price (and I've heard some outrageous ones in just two days. Two-thousand cfa for that second-hand tee-shirt? You must be joking. Four hundred, maximum.) you tell them another one, and they'll drop a few cfa that way, but often you have to pretend to lose interest and walk away. Then, if they've decided they want your business after all, they'll hiss to call you back and you start bargaining again until you finally get the price you want. I feel so grateful to have learned Wolof, too. Everybody speaks Wolof and they are usually so surprised (I'm not good enough with the language yet to say they are impressed) that I can communicate, it makes talking the price down easier. I wish I could describe the bustle of the market. The narrow alleys, people crowded on all sides selling and buying, some carrying spectacular things on their heads, and everywhere loud colors jostling for supremacy. It's a sensory adventure, both good and bad, the bad mostly having to do with smells I'd rather not mention. But there is a spice section of the market, too, and walking into that fragrant street made me realize how exotic and wonderful this place is. There is a lot still to learn about Kaolack, but this is my regional capital so I will come here fairly often. Breakfast today was a bag of millet beignets and a chilled sack of bissap juice from a street vendor - so delicious! My plan this afternoon is to curl up with a book or maybe watch a movie, and basically gather myself for more excitement that will inevitably come when I venture back into the vibrant marche tomorrow.

It's Official

The papers are signed, selections of the ceremony shown on national TV, and the boubous packed away. As of yesterday when I swore to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States, I am a fully-fledged, no-more-skirting-around-with-beurocratic-lingo Peace Corps Volunteer. We all dressed up in colorful clothes - mine is really pretty, a complet in tan-colored wax with big, bold designs in brown and red, but I can't put the pictures up yet because this Internet cafe has no disk-drive. Anyway, it was a nice ceremony. They kept it short and sweet, which everyone appreciated, as there was a buffet afterwards. A note on buffets: in the US, people are very good about standing in lines. We understand that if somebody gets there before you, the proper thing to do is wait for them to be served, and as long as the person behind you also follows this unspoken rule, everyone will get through the buffet line without incident. Forget about those rules. Americans are the easiest people to take advantage of in a foreign buffet. Everyone else is fighting for a place at the bar to order a drink, barging through your neighbors to reach a plate of hors d'oeuvres, and all-around jostling for position. Meanwhile, the polite Americans placidly wait their turn on the outskirts, until they get thirsty enough to be unnaturally pushy. It's amazing! I probably stood in the same place for half an hour waiting to get a drink, while some people were on their third glass. I learned my lesson afetr that and mobbed the poor servers carrying trays, along with the others who had clued-in, to grab snacks. Depsite the atmosphere - every man for himself in this buffet - I had a wonderful time. The food was delicious, and contrary to the actions of us all madly grabbing at it, there was more than enough. I stuffed myself silly, knowing that it's going to be a long time before I eat such wonderful things again. Mini-hamburgers, tiny cheeze pizzas, tomatoes stuffed with creamed shrimp, chicken dumplings, and the sweets: jam-filled crepes, fudge brownies, and creme puffs. Oh, I'm salivating again! The party was at the Ambassador's residence in Dakar. A very elegant place, though unoccupied at the moment, as apparantly Senegal is between-Ambassadors. Afterwards we did more paperwork (with the government, theres always paperwork involed) and headed back to Thies for a little relaxation before enjoying a big dinner with our host parents. That was the end of our stage, and the last time all 39 of us will be together until IST in February. Some people left this morning. My taxi is heading out tomorrow at around 6am, so I spent today packing up my things. They barely fit into my baggage, and I have a lot of loose stuff now: the medical kit, water filter and bulky mosquito net issued by the Peace Corps, as well as my bike. At the moment it's hard to imagine how all my stuff will fit in a single 7-place taxi, but I'm prepared to be amazed because tomorrow I and two others are sharing one to Kaolack. There, I plan to go shopping for things to "make my hut a home". It'll be fun!

Naatango = counterpart

By popular demand, here is a photo of me in my red outfit, dancing (all alone, don't I look cool?) at the tam-tam. I have to say, I really love reading everybody's comments and stories from home. It's inspiring to be writing for such an appreciative audience! For those writing me letters and/or sending packages, I'll post my new address as soon as I have it, which may be awhile, as this is my last weekend in Internet-available Thies. But I'll do my best. Now, onto the blog post!
This week was probably the most stressful so far, as our counterparts came from all over the country to meet us and have a two-day Peace Corps crash course. My two naatangos from Keur Ali Gueye arrived last Wednesday afternoon, and left just yesterday morning. That meant two and a half days of discussions in broken Wolof, awkward pauses, and trying to make sense of the people I'm going to move in with next week. Actually, I'm very lucky. My counterparts are extremely motivated and, as I am the fourth Volunteer going to my site, they kind of know how Americans work. However, with that experience comes high expectations, which I hope I can meet. They were friendly, though, and sound eager to help me integrate into the community, so though it was a little nerve-wracking I am excited to be heading there soon. It's hard to believe training is almost over! Providing I pass all my tests, the swearing-in ceremony will be held this Friday in Dakar. Apparently it is played on nationwide television. Yay. But I bought some pretty fabric and gave it to my sister the tailor, so I should at least look fabulous! It's going to be difficult not to spend all my living allowance on new clothes, because the fabric here is so beautiful, and the outfits are amazing. Hopefully in a village setting the temptation to buy new clothes will be easier to resist. Meanwhile, I am really enjoying being a homebody in Thies. My sister and I have the routine of cooking dinner together every night, and she gave me recipes for some of my favorite dishes. I'm going to miss this family! They really welcomed me and made me feel a part of their home. At least I will be able to visit in February, when we come back to Thies for in-service training. There are lots of things about this little city that I will miss. In just a few days, I'm off to the mysterious unknown! But, I have some good books, just barely enough Wolof, and a great sun-hat, so I'm ready for anything.

Popenguene

Last weekend we had a brief getaway at the beautiful beach of Popenguene. We all piled into an al hum (they are basically small busses that will pack in as many people as possible. It's pretty amazing; usually there's at least one guy hanging off the back holding the door shut, and our struggled when going uphill, but we made it!) and headed out of Thies for the first time. After the craziness of training and constant existance in a bustling city, unloading into a quiet town with an idyllic stretch of beach was like walking into Paradise. As soon as I dropped my stuff off I got into my bikini and it didn't come off all night! The breeze felt so good on my bare skin, which usually sweats all day in clothes covering it from shoulders to calves, and the ocean was refreshingly cool during the day, and felt warm at night. I bobbed around in the waves, enjoying the freedom of being away from everything. Needless to say we had a wonderful time! One of the coolest things I saw was a group of fishermen on the beach, hauling in a net. It was maybe ten in the morning, and there was a huge group of people there helping to pull the net in, which was writhing with fish. They flashed in the sun, almost blinding. Once onshore, people grabbed armfulls of the dying fish and tossed them into sorted piles. The smaller ones went to the cluster of sea birds that hopped on the sidelines, waiting for handouts. After the mini-vacation, I felt totally refreshed and had a really good week. I reached the minimum language requirement, which is nice because now I can concentrate on improving rather than just making the grade. Somehow, the days positively flew by this week! I don't know where the time went. Lots of other Trainees are going to Dakar this weekend, but I'm staying in Thies witht he family. My host sisters braided my hair again this afternoon, and it feels so good to have the wind blow across my scalp instead of feel the sweat pooling on my neck. Tomorrow my sister is going to teach me how to cook ceeb u jen (rice and fish), a traditional lunch of Senegal.

Kaay Fecc

I am writing early this week since the Trainees have organized a trip to the beach this weekend, so I don't think I'll make it to an Internet Cafe then. This week has been good. We did several field trips to villages surrounding Thies, to practice Wolof and interact with the farmers. I know my language skills need a lot of practice, and despite the fact that people don't always understand me and I speak with terrible grammar, I really enjoy taking a break from the classroom to study in the real world. The big event this week was a "tam tam" dance organized by the trainers. We invited members of our family and some people dressed up in their Korite outfits (the only ones most people have, besides the clothes we brought from the US) to dance. The dancing here is hard to describe. As best I can tell, it is a group of drummers jamming, and the dancers try in effect to anticipate what the drums will do next, and match the rhythm with movement. This is not easy, as the drumbeat changes all the time! Also, I have news: the stereotype that Africans are dancing all the time is not true! The beginning of our tam tam was just as awkward as any American high-school dance, with people sitting on the sidelines staring at the empty floor. Finally, a few brave souls got it started, but we never once got everybody up to dance, and there were definitely more Americans shaking it than Senegalese. However, most of us didn't look quite as impressive as the few young women who hiked up their pagnes and danced in aerobic style. They leap up into the air, stamp their feet, wave their arms...it's really impossible to describe, but it is really intimodating to watch, because I could never move like that! One of the most striking things about the dance party were the colors. People came in a varity of clothes, but the Senegalese are not shy with colors. Some wear neon green or yellow, and look amazing in them, with the contrast of their skin. Others choose more subdued maroon or tan. Mix it all with the various shades of American - I wore red-orange, another girl green, one bright blue - and there is a complete artists' pallette, plus a few colors that never would appear in nature. I love the bold patterns of the fabrics, and the many styles of clothing. Really it can't be described, or even shown in a photo, though I took a few, which I willpost when I get the chance. And I would like to point out that I danced alot, sometimes all alone, and it was a lot of fun! In case anyone was wondering, the "electric slide" CAN work with a Senegalese drum beat, but most people were lame and didn't join in. Oh, well, I'm no stranger to being the only one having a good time on the dance floor.
Now would be a good time maybe to describe a typical evening. They are very short! I usually get home from the center by about 7pm (it takes about half an hour, since I walk) and then I greet my family, ask how their day went, and set my stuff in my room. If I have homework, that is the time to do it because there is a little light left and while we have electricity, it is not always reliable. Usually, if we're eating rice, which we often do, I help to clean it. One of my sisters does the cooking every night, but I like to help. So we sift through the rice with our hands, picking out any small bits of grit, chaff or little bugs that might be there. Meanwhile, attracted by the light, there are often dozens of grasshoppers zipping around - of all sizes and types - as well as little brown beetles that crawl all over, but are harmless. After picking out the bad bits, we wash the rice two or three times by adding water to the calabash-bowl and swishing our hand around so all the grains get scrubbed. I never rinsed rice at home, though they say you are supposed to, but here you can really see how important it is. The water is definitely not clear after the rice is washed! Sometimes we have fish and vegetables on top, other times the rice is mixed in with the sauce, and twice we had a meat stew with peas that didn't involve rice at all; we scooped it up with bread. Mostly my family eats with spoons, though sometimes the older people prefer their hand. After dinner, we head outside, where they roll out mats and nap where there is a cool breeze. This is usually around 9pm or so. Depending on how tired I am, I'll stay and talk for awhile, though it is hard to find the motiation to stay awake when everybody else is lying on the ground snoozing! Usually I am in bed by 9:30, to write or read for half an hour before going to sleep, and I start all over again at 6am the next day. My constant background noise is prayers from the many mosques, and also the sound of roosters and sheep outside the compound. On my walk in the morning, I relish the peacefulness and relative quiet, because the one thing you can't escape here is the noise. But, I'm used to that too.

Onions, chickens, and a red dress

Yesterday was Korite, the official end of Ramadan. I woke up fairly early (which is not unusual, now; what is very difficult is staying awake past 10pm! I feel like a huge loser, but I am so sleepy by 9:30 even, that all I want to do is go to bed. The family stays up much later, but they don't usually do anything like have long conversations, dance, or watch movies, and I can't bring myself to stay awake when all we are doing is sitting or lying around outside. It's something to work on.) so I could help prepare the meal. Clearly one of the highlights of Korite is lunch, which nobody has enjoyed for a month. In the morning, after breakfast, the men and little boys got into their fancy clothes and went to the mosque. The streets outside were full of these male groups in their colorful outfits. Meanwhile, I helped my host mother and sisters peel a mountain of onions and garlic cloves, which we later diced and made into a delicious sauce. My hands still smell slightly oniony, even though we washed with vinegar afterwards. After returning from prayer, two of my host brothers went out and came back with three or four live chickens, held by the wings. They made a huge racket, squawking and screeching, that was really horrible to hear. It didn't last too long, though, as they were taken behind the house and came back headless in a bucket. Later, my brother plucked them and handed them over to a sister, who fried them up in spices and oil. Lunch was couscous (Moroccan style, my preferance), with a thick onion sauce and plenty of chicken. Theoretically, during Korite people dress in beautiful clothes and go visit neighbors. This did happen, but not until late (though maybe it happens in the evening anyway, I'm not sure) because right after lunch a sudden rainstorm began. There was thunder and a veritable monsoon. Our courtyard began to fill with water, and lakes formed on the sides of the street. It poured like this for a long time, drenching everything not under cover, and flooding the dirt-floored compound. Luckily, nothing important got wet, but by the time it was over everything else was thoroughly soaked. This means I won't be watering my little garden plot this weekend! It was speculated to limit the visitors for Korite, as well, so I took a nap. When I got up, someone has swept the water from the courtyard and the puddles didn't look too bad, so a few of us changed into our outfits. My host sister, who is a tailor, made mine. It is a two-piece dress of rust-colored bazane, with a black lace trim. I think it's very pretty! After squeezing into my clothes (they're a tight fit, as is the style) I went out with my eldest host brother and his girlfriend to a friend's house, where we sat and chatted in an extremely comfortable living room while enjoying cups of monkey bread juice - guy - the fruit of the baobad tree. It's delicious stuff, almost like a smoothie. Yesterday I also tried two kinds of millet porriage, both sweetened, one with lait caille (like a thin yogurt) and the other stewed with peanuts and pieces of fruit. Both are tasty, but there was so much food, I couldn't possibly fit it all in! We definitely eat a lot here. I wonder how that will change when I get to the village. Anyway, that was my rainy Korite. It was good, though. And now that Ramadan is over, I will finally start to learn what Senegalese life is like the other eleven months of the year!

Sama Willas

Today we were finally given our site announcements! I am headed to a village of about 700 people called Keur Ali Gueye, in the Kaolack region. As far as I can tell, I will be 7km from the nearest sizeable town (one you can find on a map of Senegal) called Nioro du Rip. I am very excited! It feels so good to finally know where I will be living for the next two years. Life in a small village will take some adjusting - even less privacy, no electricity, long walks to the market - but I am prepared to figure those things out they come. Needless to say, there will be fewer blog postings once I'm at site! That won't be for another month, though. In the meantime, we are still training hard in Thies. Tonight most people are going out to a restaurant to celebrate our new sites. I'll be there!

Business as usual

It is just business as usual here at the training center. Class, culture, health, more class, technical, and lanuage class again. I have Wolof coming out my ears, though unfortunately not out of my mouth. Hehehe, I'm a genius - that is such an amazing sentance! Akon is currently playing in the background at the Internet cafe. The Senegalese-American (verdicts are mixed here as to his true naitonality) is ever-present; I hear Akon ALL the time. Luckily his music, from what I've heard, is pretty good. Though I wish I could listen to some Sugarland or something country once in a while. Really, though, Wolof is going well; slowly, but it's coming along. We finally did something agriculture-related this week: we tilled a little plot in the training center and sowed some crops to care for and observe for our next month here. We have millet, sorgum, corn, cowpea, and peanut, of which the millet and sorgum have already sprouted. They are just tiny green shoots at the moment, but pretty soon we wil have to weed and water them. Traditionaly, things are planted at the beginning of the rainy season, and whatever rain falls during those few months is all the water they get for the year, so it is important to have varieties that will finish their life cycle before it gets too dry for them. We visited a very neat, clean little village earlier this week to look at the ields in production. It was humbling, for me, to see how the farmers here have learned to grow food in, essentially, sand, or occasdionally clay. There is no rich, black soil here like we have back home. It is reddish, grainy and poor-looking, but nevertheless fertile. I have a lot to learn about farming here, that's for sure. Nothing is quite like the greeting we recievedin these villages. As our bus pulled up and we sweaty Americans spilled out, we were surrounded by children grinning and greeting us - I could respond to that, in part, with my clumsy Wolof - and then the women greeted us also, with huge smiles and excitement all round. It's something that just doesn't happen in the US, really, to have strangers welcome you and help you learn their lanuage, and really truly want you there. It is a good feeling. Today, walking with a fellow Trainee to the Internet cafe, an adorable little boy was goiing our way, so we started chatting (in French and Wolof) about little things - school, his family, our names. We just strolled off together, talking when we felt like it, and laughing a lot. That's the kind of thing that happens here fairly frequently. Some of the kids in my neighborhood know who I am now, and they'll call to me - "Fatou Diallo!" as I walk home. I regret that I don't have more time to spend with my host family. They are really great, but by the time I get home from training it is almost time for "ndogu" - breaking fast - and then I do homework usually, maybe sit with them for half an hour before dinner, and then it's off to bed. The weekends are my time with them, but also for myself, so it is tough to find the balance. Last week, I helped my sisters with the laundry. It's a grueling chore - they wash everything by hand, and scrub so hard the water makes a squelching noise through their fingers. I tried, but couldn't do it, so I rinsed and wrung out the clothes instead. They dry quickly in the sun, and then are ironed. I'm not sure exactly why they do this, but apparantly there are some flies that will lay eggs on damp clothing, which could hatch into larvae that burrow under the skin, but ironing kills them, which is enough to make me buy an ironing board! It's an old-style iron, though. They fill the iron shell with hot coals from the brazier, which they use also for heating water and other things. I'll have to try it sometime. Meanwhile, things are going well here. I am very busy! This Thursday our sites will be announced. It is exciting! I can't wait to find out where I will be for the next two years...

Training

(Drying laundry at the training center....scenic, isn't it?)

We finally finished our first week of training, and it is a grueling schedule. We start classes at 8a.m., but I try to be there by 7:30 to eat breakfast (which is tea/nescafe/hot chocolate, and bread. WAY too much rahter nasty white bread.) and settle in before we get into the grind. Wolof lessons are tough - it's been forever since I learned the basics of a language, and I'd forgotten how much I disliked it. But, all things considered, it is going well. I can now greet people on the street: "Naga def? Naka waa ker nga? Alhamdullilah!" and that's about the extent of my language skills. We are learning to make basic sentances now, which I try to practice with the family, but that is slow going. However, I am optimistic that I will meet the minimum language requirement for the Peace Corps. Meanwhile, we are also learning come useful cross-cultural tidbits, which we are trying to apply in daily life. This is easier said than done, I find, but I am determined to try! Eating etiquette is fairly straightforward: don't take all the vegetebles, don't reach across the bowl into someone else's area, don't sprawl so nobody else can fit, and don't ever use your left hand! Right hand only. For pretty much everything. Which at least is consistant! I need to work on paying more attention to which hand people are using, though, and really concentrate on which one I offer; at home, whichever hand is convenient is fine, but here using your left hand could be considered very rude. I have more trouble with the rules governing people's interactions. They all still feel awkard to me, and I'm never quite sure when I should wander away from people I've greeted, or whether they are still including me in the mostly-unintelligable conversation...my family is great about this, and they help me a lot, but on the street it gets confusing. Speaking of streets, the Peace Corps gave us our bikes this week. I never liked biking at home, especially not on the street, and here I enjoy it even less! I always feel like I'm risking my life whenever I swing onto that bike, and especially when riding down the road, and unsure of what the many other vehicles are planning to do. It really is the most practical way to get from my home to the training center, though, so I will figure it out. This afternoon I walked home instead, though, and that was nice. A lot hotter, and it took awhile longer, but I felt signifigantly less terrified. So I may walk a few days a week from now on. This first week we focused on learning the basics of Wolof (many different pronouns to keep straight!) as well as some general information about Senegal's government and ecology, and a basic overview of what we Sustainable Agriculture volonteers will be doing. Nothing very hands-on yet, but hopefully soon we will get to start our own garden plots and learn some other useful activities to prepare us for work in the field. And in two weeks, we'll finally have our site assignments! It will feel good to know where I'll be going, and I am impatient to find out, as is everyone else. But there is plenty to occupy us in the meantime! No cell phone yet, though I will try to get one soon. But I have loved both letters I got - thank you Heather and Arwen!! People should write me more letters. This was kind of a boring blog post; there is lots to say, but as to my activities I spend ten hours a day in training, which leaves time only really for geting home, breaking the fast, relaxing for a bit, watching T.V., eating dinner, and then turning in while everybody else stays up until I-don't-know-how-late. So that's my life for now. In a nutshell, it's good.

Wolof chez les Diallo

I am now settled into my new host family for the next two months. There are eighteen of them! Which, large as it seems, is not too unusual around here. They thought it was pretty funny when I told them I come from a family of six, and that's considered unusually huge in the U.S.A. I was only "Binta Faye" for those few days in my demystification village, and now I am "Fatou Diallo", until I end up with another (and this one I will finally get to keep!) Senegalese name in whatever place I end up. We break the fast now slightly differently: bread with butter, dates, and nescafé. The evenings thus far have been taken up with relaxing in the cooling air, chatting (or, in my case, listening to the still-incomprehensible conversation...in a few weeks hopefully I will be able to join in!) and greeting neighbors. At the moment, the womens basketball championship is on, so we have been watching that on T.V. in the heat of the afternoon. This morning I woke up at 5a.m. to eat a little, intending to try and fast today just to see what it is like. We ate a bowl-full of what is called "fundé". It is like a tapioca pudding made with balls of millet. I had some during demystification, but it was not quite as good as this, because it did not have the secret ingredient: lime juice! When you add lime juice it becomes irresisteable, and it is easy to understand how overindulgence could lead to a "jaay fundé" - big butt, which as I understand it is a positive attribute here, but still not something I aspire to! Incidentally, I didn't end up fasting today. They kept giving me food! I don't like to turn that down. As another side note, please excuse my spelling; we haven't started Wolof yet and so I have no real idea how to write it all out...plus this is a French keyboard and that further complicates things. Tomorrow, though, I start Wolof class! Already we learned a few key phrases and basic greetings in "survival Wolof", but now I'm in for the real thing. Not everyone is learning this language; there are several local ones being taught as well as French. Learning Wolof gives me no clue as to where I may be placed, since it is the most commonly spoken language in Senegal, so the suspense in mounting. While knowing French is very handy, and means I can converse with my host family pretty easily, as all the older members studied French in school, I am hoping it won't end up being a crutch I use when struggling with Wolof. Almost everyone here uses French to some extent, though Wolof is preferable; I'll just have to force myself outside of that comfort zone. From looking at my grueling schedule, I don't think I will have much free time during the next few weeks. We have something like six hours of language training a day! Still, I will try to write a few things when I have the chance. Also, I need to go shopping and especially have some shirts made! The ones I brought are just not suitable for this hot weather, and they tend to get dirtier than they would at home. Hopefully I can do all that this week, while studying, spending time with the family, and trying to stay sane in this new and very communal culture. There are so many wonderful things about Senegal, but none of them are really appreciable unless you get out of the American mindset. My host family is wonderful, and I hope I settle in and make some real friends among them soon. Only one thing annoys me about being here so far, and that is the word "toubab". Rough translation: "toubab" = "white person" = "person with money". Which I suppose is true (please refer to title of my blog) however HERE I don't want to be thought of as just another tourist. The adults don't say anything, they just occasionally stare, which I don't mind; it's the little kids who get very excited and will call out "Toubab! Toubab!" You can't get mad, really, because they are doing it out of innocence and interest in something new and unusual, and the word is not even an insult. It just gets old really fast. My new resolution, as of this afternoon, is to try and make a joke out of it. When a couple of kids called to me earlier today, I put a startled look on my face and said, "Toubab? Ou? Where? Je ne le voit pas!", while looking around in mock bewilderment. That got a giggle out of a couple of them, but only confused the others. Well, more on all that to come. I am headed home to the comparative luxury of my home for the next couple of months, to mentally prepare myself for tomorrow's Wolof lesson. Wish me bonne chance et bon courage!

Demystified

I am back in Thies for awhile now, having survived (I'd like to say thrived) my demystification experience! My past four days consisted of me and another trainee staying in the hut of a Volunteer who is currently working with sustainable agriculture, which is to be my project also. It was really nice to finally SEE what we had been imagining for so long, and to recieve some concrete information! Everything thus far has been so vague, it felt good to experience something real for once. I really enjoyed the demyst, not only because now I feel more prepared for my next two years here, but also because it offered a long-awaited opportunity to actually relax and talk to other people one-on-one, which is hard to do in the bustle of the training center. My Volunteer host lives in a small village somewhat to the south, near a delta thich with mangroves. We took an evening boat ride through the swamp to birdwatch and admire the odd mangrove plants as they rose out of salt water. For the most part, though, we just hung out at her family's compound. As it is Ramadan, people don't do much during the day besides relax in the shade of trees, which we did along with them. Unfortunately, my "survival Wolof" didn't come in very useful, as I went to a village that spoke Sereer instead. So... "Salaam alekum" was as far as I got! But people are amazingly friendly, even if all you can do is smile and nod in response to their questions. Greetings take a long time here, and everyone was curious about us, which transformed a ten-minute walk into a half-hour confusing meet-and-greet of neighbors and friends. The last name "Faye" is apparantly Sereer, so people were delighted to hear that is it my last name as well. The moment we set foot in thr family's compound we were given village names. Mine was "Binta Faye", which at least kept part of my real name in it! There were probably a dozen kids running around all the time, from full-grown men to a tiny five-month old baby (who was absolutely the most adorable, chubby baby! He loved splashing around in a bucket of water, and had necklaces - gris-gris - around his neck and hips. Protective amulets, I believe they are, if my memory of the cultural air is any good...) and the two mothers seemed to always have their hands full. In the daytime we went to te fields and gardens to observe the crops (millet, rice, corn, and cowpea) and also garden plots though these were not too impressive yet. We were told gardening is more common during the dry season, when the harvest is over. One morning, decked out in farming gear of long pants, full-sleeved blouse and sun hat, we headed for a rice plot to weed. The dirt smelled amazing that day! It rained a lot while we were there, and the water in the soil brought all those good, earthy aromas to the surface to perfume us as we weeded. Around seven thirty in the evening the family broke their day's fast, and we with them. Though I didn't fast this year, the Volunteer I stayed with did, and I think this would be fun to do once I am settled into my own hut and my own family. I can see how it would really bring people together, to wait all day in anticipation of the meal. We broke our fast with a piece of village bread and a cup of coffee or kinkileba tea, and lots of water. This particular family has a well on their compound, from which they draw their water. Ours was filtered of course. After breaking the fast, the family prayed all together; except the littlest ones. Finally, around eight or eight-thirty, dinner was served. The food here is very tasty but mostly variations of the same basic dish: rice and sauce. We had fish atop the rice, and some small bits of vegetable too such as cabbage, manioc or sweet potato. Our host family gave us three Americans our own bowl, which we tried to eat out of in the traditional way with our hands. Mostly I made a mess, but maybe that's the idea! You have to kind of smear a glob of food onto your fingertips, then smash it into ball in your palm, and kind of roll it into your mouth...sometimes I succeeded at this, but usually I just licked it off my fingers without trying to make a ball, because it was way too difficult. It was so hot there that I sweated all day, and three showers would not have been too many! No shower heads for me, though; instead, a bucket and a scoop with which to slosh cool well water over my body. It is very refreshing to rinse off like this during the day, and especially at night. The water is a cold shock at first, but soon it just feels luxurious. And there is someting special about washing under the stars. I think it is finally beginning to hit me that I am in Senegal; it's taken long enough! The whole thing was just surreal at first. But there is nothing like an outdoor "douche" - a.k.a. hole in the ground - to bring you back to reality. This is not as odious as it might sound; though definitely something that will take some serious getting used-to. I am glad to be back in Thies, where I can settle in for a little while. What I really look forward to, however, is having my own space, my own hut where I can really make myself at home. That's still several months coming, but it's something to look forward to! I will try to write again later this week with more news. Gotta take advantage of this Internet access while I can, before they throw me out in the bush for good!

Senegal

Well, I am here in Senegal! Things are good so far. I am at an Internet cafe in Thies, not far from our training center. We had a two-day staging in Atlanta, where I visted with family and had a truly amazing dinner, provided by my restauranteur cousin. Then, an intermineably long flight (it wa only 9 hours, but it felt much longer) and then a drive over bumpy roads from Dakar to Thies (pronounced "Chess") in the rising dawn. I was exhausted, but we got right to work with training and meeting people. However, I went to bed at 5:30 and I don't regret it! Twelve hours of sleep can be really refreshing, so today I think I'll try to make a normal schedule. Many things are different here, but oddly I don't feel grossly out of place. It's not what I'm used to, true, but nor is it totally alien. I think I'll be able to fit in here eventually, in my own way. The training center is very comfortable, and it's nice to have class and other opportunities to get to talk with the other trainees. It is a very diverse group, which I appreciate! We eat lunch sitting around a huge bowl that accomodates about five people at a time. We all dig in with a spoon, and so far the food has been delicious: a base of rice with meat and vegetable sauce. No doubt all these things will change when we start service, but for the moment this is enough to get used to! The sun sets early here, around seven in the evening, which is therefore "nightttime" and we have to be back at the Center. So, a short post for now. But I am feeling very happy to be here! This was the right decision to make, I think. Write me letters!

Ugly bags

These are my bags. Not pretty, are they? I took this picture with my digital camera, which will come with me to Senegal. Need to practice with it, though, but so far so good, right? As it turns out, I think my bags are going to way something pretty darn close to 80 pounds alltogether, so that should be fun to watch me try to manuever them around!

Packing, part one

I started packing last night, and am beginning to realize how insufficient 80 pounds of gear will be...however, so far I can still lift everything, which indicates that it can't be THAT heavy! I mean, I only weigh 116 pounds myself. Not counting my toiletries, which I have yet to organize, and excepting a few odds and ends like electronics, here is what I have so far:

2 journals for writing + 1 journal with pretty paper for letters
1 good multitool
1 compass (my dad insisted that I have one)
1 knife sharpener
1 headlamp with 24 AAA batteries (merci Devin!)
1 freeplay radio with a built-in flashlight
The US Book
1 leather belt + 1 rope belt
1 pair gardening/working gloves
1 pair of pretty shoes
1 pair of hiking boots
1 pair of good walking sandals
1 mosquito net (I know Peace Corps will give me one, but you can never have too many!)
1 purple kimono, polyester (the silk replacement I bought in San Francisco's Chinatown is staying here. I promised myself when I bought it that I would wait to see if I ended up going to Africa, and if I did, I vowed to keep the silk kimono safe in its drawer, so when I got back I could have something truly luxurious to spoil myself with.)
3 scarf/sashes (2 cotton, 1 silk)
3 cotton bandanas
1 straw sun hat
1 white linen ankle-length dress
2 pairs of blue jeans
1 warm vest
1 quick-dry towel
1 sarong
4 tank tops
1 pair of nice khaki capris
1 pair of Thai wraparound pants
2 long-sleeve button-up shirts
2 polo shirts
1 photo of my family
3 tee-shirts
2 long skirts
2 cute going-out tops
1 pair working capris
1 pair zip-off work pants
1 fancy rain slicker
1 bikini; 1 one-piece bathing suit (I'm being optimistic, I know, but maybe I'll wear them.)
19 pairs of socks (I hope that's enough!!)
1 Mexican tunic
7 bras (3 sport, 3 underwire, 1 strapless)
37 pairs of underwear

This list is bound to change by the time I actually leave, but so far that's what I have. It looks like a lot when all written out, but really it packs up pretty small. There's probably some things I won't need, and others I'll wish I had, but hey, that's part of the experience, right? I am reconciling myself now to the fact that I'm sure lots of this stuff will meet its end somewhere in Senegal. Maybe my bags will be lighter coming home!

First Installment

Welcome to my blog. I always had something of a contempt for traditional bloggers...why would you want to put the intimate details of your life online for all to see? The same reason some people post naked photos of themselves, with their faces blurred or cut off: a streak of exhibitionism in us all. I have reconciled myself to writing this, though, because it will be so much more convenient than sending mass e-mails, it won't clog your inbox, and this way you can invite all your friends and enemies to read about what I'm doing in Senegal!

Typical disclaimer: All opinions contained herein are the exclusive property of myself, and in no way reflect the beliefs or attitudes of the Peace Corps or the United States Government, nor any government entity in Senegal.

Okay, as you now know, this will be my online Peace Corps journal. There will be no juicy details of my personal musings or love life (if I ever have one again) so don't ask. I'll tell you if I want you to know. Instead, I intend it to be an edifying and fascinating discussion of my experiences with the Senegalese culture, along with long and boring descriptions of my daily activities. Yay!

I leave in just over two weeks. It feels like I will never actually be truly prepared, nor do I think I will realize the full implications of what I'm doing until they dump me off all by myself in a remote African village with 80 pounds and a carry-on. The irony is that I have spent quite a lot of money buying supplies, while going to a country where people have nothing like all the fancy REI stuff I now own. Well, we shall see.

To begin with, I'll start out training for two months in Thies (accent grave on the "e") I feel very lucky to know French already. I have this inkling that it may come in handy! Anyway, please write me letters or e-mails, but especially letters. There is something special about opening a letter, waiting for the right time when you have privacy to carefully tear apart the edges of the envelope, and draw out a paper that someone spend minutes of their day scribbling upon, and read news and thoughts that are many weeks old, yet still precious because whoever recorded them put their soul into it. Anyway, here is my address:

PCT Abigail Fay
Corps de la Paix
B.P. 299
Thies, Senegal
West Africa

Address things in red ink - apparantly, they look more official that way and are more likely to make it. I plan to write you all back, though the reliability of that may not be so good...depends on the mail system, which of course I have yet to experience. Trying not to think about that right now. Still in the USA for now, and trying to divide my time between all the important people in my life. There are so many! I'll miss you all.