I Bless the Rains Down in Africa

The morning we left Montana for our grand Peace Corps adventure, my sister decided we needed some music to make it through the final stretch of packing.  She went to the computer and put my mom's iTunes library on shuffle.  The first song?  Toto's Africa.  We stopped everything to belt it out, which of course transitioned into a dance off to Shakira's Waka Waka.  It was time for Africa.

Now, almost nine months later, I know what that song means.  I have blessed the rains down in Africa.  The end of the rains means that Pat and I have gone through our first full season in site.   We arrived in the middle of hot season and are now making the transition into cold season, which I still don't know if I believe in.  Living in Senegal has made me much more cognizant of the seasonality of things.  While people are generally familiar with both the Western and Islamic calendars, time is described most often in terms of rainy season, hot season, and cold season.  The rains started off and on in June and began to fade away in October.  When they first came, they were such a relief from the heat, cooling things down immensely.  But now, I am ready to be done with the season of rains and all that comes with it.

Stormy Season

When it rains here, it really rains.  Our thatched roof proved able to withstand some intense storms with minimal leakage.  The sky could blacken in minutes, and old people would say, "The sky is not good."  Since you get stranded where you are when the storm starts, you have to hustle to get to a place you want to be stuck for a good while.  We tried to capture this sense of anticipation of waiting for a storm in this video.

A storm approaches

Sango te bendin (the sky is not good)

 The word for lightning in Malinke is samata, which literally translates to mean "rainy season fire".  The lightning is so spectacular that we have cumulatively spent hours watching it, which makes our neighbors think we are crazy.  "We run away from the lightning," they say.  "And you run towards it!"  There is also a very strongly held belief that if you do not turn off your electronics during a storm that you will be struck by lightning.  I can't count the number of times I have been told to turn my phone off during a storm.  You can never get ahold of anyone, and the radio stops broadcasting.  Once on a drive down to Kedougou during a storm, the woman next to me in the sept-place would not leave me alone until I turned off my phone and ipod.  When I tried to read a book with a flashlight, she got really exasperated, so I had to settle with just listening to the rain.

Farming Season

We live in what is still a very agricultural society.  I remember arguments made in the states for having school year round since the reason for a summer break in order for kids to help with farming has become obsolete.  Not so here.  School officially started in early October, but kids are just starting to trickle in now, after they have helped with the peanut harvest.  The beginning of rainy season, when last year's stores have been depleted and this year's harvest is not yet ready, is known as starving season.  Then, as different crops become ready, our food bowl changes to heavily reflect the yield from the fields.  We are currently phasing out of okra based sauces into peanut-based sauces.  

My host mom and namesake, Sadio, stands proudly in front of her fields where she has planted peanuts and other ground nuts, okra, hibiscus, a small potato thing, beans, and millet.

Sadio's encampment at her field.  After planting is done, she spends the days here to ward off the monkeys who will come and eat the peanuts.

Sadio shows me her peanut plants that have been dug up by monkeys.

 The growth in vegetation is not limited to the fields.  Our yard, completely barren when we moved in, was constantly overtaken by weeds that just kept getting taller, no matter how much we weeded (and eventually gave in and sprayed).  Now, when the harvest is over, people set the bush on fire to clear out the overgrowth and make it easier to hunt.  Kedougou is burning.

Before.

This is the best picture I could find for the after shot.  But you can see that beyond the fence, where before it was brown, is now completely green.  That was in August.  Now in November, it is nothing less than a jungle, with weeds over ten feet high.

Difficult Access Season

Whether it is due to seasonal rivers across roads or increased spottiness of cell phone networks, things become more difficult in rainy season, especially for volunteers in remote areas.

Crossing the river that showed up in the road on the way to my friend Ian's site.

Mold Season

This is the aspect of rainy season that I will miss the least.  I am ready to reach into my trunk without fera that my chosen piece of clothing will have molded in the humidity.

Plague Season

At times during the past few months, I thought I must be in Egypt under Pharoah.  The pests came in waves that were very reminiscent of the plagues described in Exodus.  First, we had these crazy black wasps.  Then came the flying termites.  Then caterpillars.  Then snails.  Then toads.  The toads have been the craziest.  They are so determined to be in our hut!  We find them everywhere, such as in my running shoes.  In addition to the plagues of pests, rainy season is also the time of year that everyone gets skin infections.  I bet half of the volunteers in Kedougou got staff infections--girls are advised not to shave during this time of year to avoid any skin abrasions that could get infected.  I got away with just one fungal skin infection that just showed up as white spots on my shoulders and cleared up with special shower gel.

So many toads!

The one plague that is the worst here though, is that of mosquitoes.  Because that means that rainy season is also...

Malaria Season

I've written about this before, but the amount of malaria that started happening in my area once the rains started was really astonishing.  Actually, cases tend to spike around this time of year, when the rains have stopped but mosquitoes are still around in the remaining water.  People's guards come down because they associate malaria with rainy season, so they stop sleeping under their nets.

A community health worker performs a rapid diagnostic test on a child with a fever.

As a health volunteer, it is this last understanding of rainy season that stands out the most.  I am already working on designing projects that I want to have in place before next rainy season.  And the way time has been flying, the rains will be here again in no time.

Sharing My World

This month, we received our first visitor from back home.  I had been giddy with anticipation of the visit, eager to share my world--the culture and customs of Senegal, my new home and lifestyle, the people who have become dear, the challenges of living and working here.  Kara, my long time friend and college roommate was the first one to dare to take on Senegal.  It was so great to have her, to have the opportunity to process my experience with someone who could look at it with fresh eyes, to try to recover so of the goofy side of myself that I've been feeling has been getting lost, and to get to finally do some touristy things in the country I call home.  Kara was a trooper, and she got to experience Senegal Peace Corps style, to come to understand, in just ten days, what we came to describe as the "3 Hs of Senegal" during our last dinner together: Hospitality, Hurry up and wait, and How sketchy is this situation?

Check out our adventures, and remember, you too can visit us!

DAY 1: Dakar

We spent our first day chilling in the wonderland of Dakar.  We took a ferry to Goree Island, the historical launching point of the middle passage of slaves from Africa to the New World.  I had wanted to go for the historical significance, but turns out it is a charming place to spend an afternoon and recover from jet lag as well.  We then spent the evening on Africa's westernmost point before heading inland toward Kedougou. 

View from our hotel

Incoming view of Goree Island from the ferry

Wandering the streets of Goree.

The house of slaves, preserving the memory of the millions of captured Africans that were held here before being shipped to America.

I thought that this was the bathroom for women, only to find out that it was actually where they held the female slaves.  Cue more white guilt than I already have  on a regular basis.

The sunset from Pointe Alamadies, the westernmost point of Africa

 DAY 2: Dakar and Thies
After a morning on the beach, we began the trip inland to break up the coming trip to Kedougou.

Ahhh

DAY 3: Drive to Kedougou....thank God for Peace Corps transportation...I planned our whole itinerary around this opportunity for a ride.

DAY 4, 5: Segou, Kedougou

We biked from Kedougou to Segou, the village that is home to one of the region's beautiful waterfalls.  Public transportation is reaaaaaally difficult to deal with, so we decided to bike if Kara was up for it.  Despite the heat and a migraine, she did great and we made it to Segou for an afternoon of relaxing in what is probably the most idyllic village ever and a beautiful hike to the waterfall the next day.  On the way back, Kara had her first experience with public transportation, which involved a lot of waiting without assurance of a ride back to Kedougou in a thunderstorm, negotiations with police, herds of cows blocking negotiations with potential rides, a crazy sprinting naked guy getting carried away by a crowd of villagers, and finally a deal with a truck full of Guineans to take our bike back while we sat crammed in a taxi and Kara held the door shut the whole time. 

Ready for our grand biking adventure

Post biking laterite-covered legs

Kara's first round of tea

View along the hike to Segou

Pat found a giant leaf, which somehow reinforced the feeling that we had gone back to prehistoric times

There she be, the Segou waterfall

DAY 6-8: Kedougou/Saraya

Welcome to our home, Kara, (or should I say Makhamba?).  Timing worked out really well, and she got to be there for a Celebration of Girls' Education event that we planned to honor the winners of the scholarship program (whole blog post on that topic coming very soon).

On November 7, we woke up to the news that Obama had won the election and that the bathroom in the Kedougou regional house had caved in.

Kara said that one of the lasting images from the trip would be me waiting to get water in the mornings, so I figured I should share the image.

She was very impressed with my water carrying skills.

Kara and Christine, the cutest baby in the world.

Sharing the joy of kazoos with the kids in our host family

Celebration of Girls' Education!

Heading out to the fields.  

Sadio was so happy that Kara helped us with the groundnut harvest that she broke into song and dance as we were heading back into town from the fields.

Learning to be a Senegalese women...harvesting groundnuts, carrying a baby on the back...the people of Saraya loved her and were astounded she was only staying 3 days.

DAY 9: Beginning the journey back towards Dakar and the airport

Just one of our breakdowns on the road.

DAY 10 and 11: Mangroves and lions  

We took a detour off the main drag to Dakar to check out yet another of Senegal's diverse kinds of ecosystems.  Mostly because of the lions, which made the rush to Dakar on the last day very, very worth it.

You can't tell in this picture, but the owner of our campement in Toubacouta had a Montana Griz hat!

Out in the boat for a tour of the mangroves...trying to figure out what to do when the boat wouldn't start for almost an hour.

In our new boat, we made it to the island of shells.

Cruising in the mangroves.

Rhino siting in the Fathala game park! 

Rama, our game park guide trying to find a good path to a good view of a giraffe.

Just chilling with some zebras.

 So the Fathala game park has newly acquired some lion cubs that you get to play with and walk with.  Maybe one of the coolest things ever.

Oh the lions.  A great last African adventure for Kara before she flew out that night.  As she was leaving, I wept.  It was hard to say good bye but even harder to express what her visit meant to me.

So...what do you think?  Are you coming?

Tabaski and Tambaween: A Tale of Two Celebrations

It's holiday season in Senegal.  The biggest holiday of the year around these parts is known throughout West Africa as Tabaski (or "saliba", the big prayer, in Malinke).  It is a day to celebrate the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice his son (Ishmael in the Muslim version of the story and Isaac in the JudeoChristian version in Genesis).  In the story, God asks Abraham to sacrifice his son, and Abraham agrees. At the last minute, a ram appears, sent by God to be sacrificed in place of the son.  On Tabaski, which occurs one month and ten days after the end of Ramadan, each family that is able, slaughters a ram in commemmeration of this event.

Tambaween, on the other hand, is merely the celebration of Halloween by Peace Corps Volunteers, which takes place annually in Tambacounda.

This year, these two celebrations occurred within 3 days of each other.

The biggest indicator that Tabaski was approaching was the sudden appearance of large groups of Pulaar herders on the main thorough-fairs, herding the flocks toward slaughter in bigger cities. 

These sheep ended up (literally) in Kedougou.

Another sign of the approach of Tabaski was the extreme increase in workload of the tailor shop outside our family's compound.  Many people get new fancy clothes for Tabaski, and a lot of people went to the gold mines in order to make this (as well as the purchase of the sacrificial ram) possible.  I thought it would be fun to get matching outfits with Sadio, my host mom, and, more importantly, my namesake.  I bought 6 meters of fancy bazan fabric to split between the two of us, as the merchant assured me would be possible.  However, when I took the fabric to the tailor and explained my idea, they thought it was a great idea but explained that there was no way that was possible.  Sadio is a keeba, an old person, and they could not make anything less than a "grand-boubou" for her.  Sadio felt really bad; she loved the idea and really wanted us to have matching outfits, but she could just not see how it was possible.  It was a good illustration of the respect of elders that is so important here.

I still think they could have taken a meter out of this at least make me something like a tunic-dress.  You can't see it in this picture, but if she were to hold her arms up. she would practically have wings.  Oh well, it was totally worth it to see how incredibly happy she was to have new, super nice, clothes to wear for Tabaski.  I've actually never seen her so excited about anything ever.

The days leading up to Tabaski were full of preparation.  Women everywhere were doing each other's hair, putting in fancy extensions for the occasion, and putting henna on each other's feet and hands.  My neighbor Soma did my feet, and Madame Sy, one of the midwives at the health center, did my hair, which she compared to doll hair.

Step One:  Put on tape to mark out the design, and cover with henna mixed with water.

Step Two: Put plastic bags on your feet and wait for hours.  In your boredom, eat raw peanuts straight from the plant that will eventually become the leading suspect for your diarrhea and temperature of 104 degrees severFal days later)

Final product.  Looks like I ate cheetos with my feet, but people thought it was very beautiful.  I didn't do Step Three, which is to put another substance called dioni-dioni over the henna.  This step turns it black, but Pat read that this substance is sometimes made by crushing up batteries so I opted out.  However, my feet still looked good enough that my deaf host brother felt compelled to tell me in his sign language that Pat would be very happy, and that now we would have a baby.

On the morning of Tabaski, the first event is to go to the mosque.  At least that was what I thought was implied by the term "sali kenaato", which literally means, "the praying field".  It turns out it was the basketball court.  Too many people for the mosque I guess.  We didn't go to prayer for Korite, and people were very confused by that and assured us that we were welcome there, so we decided to tag along this time, even though we didn't know the prayers or the motions.  It was really cool though.  I just prayed my own prayers and followed Sadio's motions.  It kind of felt like a yoga class more than anything--just following the movements.  At one point she started whispering to me and I thought I was doing something wrong.  Turns out she just wanted to know if I brought my camera.  I hadn't because it would have felt voyeuristic, but there were people taking pictures all over the place.

After the prayer, everyone accompanied the Immam back to his compound, everyone dispersed.  It was ram slaughtering time.

I am super impressed that no one got any blood on their fancy boubous.

Our family actually had two rams because our dad's cousin, a former bigshot politician, came to celebrate Tabaski here and brought his own ram.  Here they are with their slaughtering knives.

Another tradition is that you fast from the time you get back from the mosque  and then break the fast with the ram's liver.  Here they are cutting out the liver in order to cook it with onions.

Yum, liver and onions.  Actually, it was really delicious.

Meat storage a la Senegalaise.  Yep, those are legs stuck in the thatch of the roof.

Pat chilling with the ram heads.  They were supposed to be eaten the next day, but some family drama got in the way.

In a funny way, Tabaski reminded me a lot of some the feelings I have at holidays back home.  Pat and I try to split holidays as evenly as possible between our two families, but there is always a feeling like you should maybe be leaving or should maybe be at the other family's house, that you are missing something.  Here, we have essentially developed two families: our host family and the staff at the health center, who all are sent from other parts of the country and become a family for each other.  We were successful at making it for the main meal at both places, al humdillilahi.

Cooking with the women.  At our family's compound the meal was boiled meat, potatoes, and onions.  And a lot of oil.  I didn't eat all that much, knowing what was coming at the health center. 

Same animal killed, much different product.  Here they steamed and grilled the meat, and made salad and fries...sooo delicious.

After the meal, people get dressed up again and go out to greet their friends and neighbors, to give them benedictions and ask forgiveness for any offenses.  Kids go out and ask for money, kind of like Halloween.

A troupe of kids partly made up of kids from our family's compound.  They are wearing makeup and look pretty creepy. 

Our special guest from Dakar brought in traditional musicians for the end of the day.  By this time, I was exhausted, but managed to summon the energy for some flailing/dancing with Sadio. 

Three days later...

I had been on the fence about attending Tambaween, having been travelling a lot lately for different trainings and such, plus my friend was flying in a few days later, leaving an awkward gap where it didn't make sense to go back to Kedougou before heading to Dakar.  Then, I learned that Kedougou volunteers were going to all go dressed up as one theme...Disney.  At that point, I had to go.  I signed up as Cinderella.  Pat was originally going to be Prince Charming, but he ended up opting for Peter Pan, since Prince Charming has no known personality.  We then realized he looked more like Robin Hood than Peter Pan, so he changed again, and the results were excellent.

Our hotel room in Tamba is what it would be like if all the Disney Princesses were helping each other primp.  In Africa.

All outfits locally made.  I think the tailor thought we were a little crazy, but he has helped enough volunteers make Halloween costumes by now not to question.

While the girls were primping, Pat was hard at work on his Peter Pan/Robin Hood hat.

Ashleigh found these extensions for her Rapunzel costume in the Kedougou market.  Apparently they had been trying, unsuccessfully to sell these blonde extensions for two years, suprise, surprise.

Here, we are, some of Kedougou's Disney Princesses.

At the last minute, Pat made a really impressive bow.  In the Senegalese version of the story, it is Robin Hood who finds Cinderella's glass slipper.

Ariel, Snow White,Tinkerbell, Belle, Cinderella, Jazmine, Rapunzel.  It doesn't get any better than this.

Glass slippers African styles.  These jelly shoes are the best option most people have for playing sports, and I learned at Tambaween that they are so, so uncomfortable and just rip up your feet.

Tambacounda is the hottest place in Senegal.  Luckily, Ariel's tail doubles as a fan.

Happy Halloween from Senegal!