a late entry for Friday...

Today is Saturday, and it’s about 11:30am here. I didn’t get a chance to blog last night, but I’ll write now about yesterday, and then hopefully later write more about the happenings of today. I’m actually trying to upload a video to the blog as I write this- we’ll see how that goes. I don’t know if the internet connection is strong enough. Here’s an update on the internet situation: the internet hook-up guys said we would have wi-fi by Friday (yesterday), but then yesterday, our landlord told us that when Senegalese say Friday, they usually mean Tuesday. C’est la vie, and that’s just how it goes. So, we roll with it. It’s ok. It just delays when I can start doing more fun stuff with the blog like posting more photos and videos. No big deal for now, although a few of you (I think) are getting rather excited to see me in my bou-bous, and for good reason. So, to you, I say a Senegalese proverb: the patient one will catch the monkey.

I have had much feedback on the last few blogs- and I appreciate this. Knowing that people back home are reading this makes me feel so connected, and that is a gift. So thank you.

I want to say a few things about the Wolof classes, and then move on to other things. First, I’ve been whining a lot about this, and feeling all sorts of feelings about it- frustration, self-pity, anger- but I have a break from all that this weekend, and I believe that this will be necessary to process what those feelings are about and whether it’s in my best interest to quit or to continue the classes. The inner conflict is this: I don’t want to quit the classes if these feelings are part of culture shock (which I believe is a good possibility). If, however, the feelings are more from a desire to just dive in to my research, then I think I probably should quit, or at least cut back on the amount of time spent in class (e.g., maybe just skip the afternoon portions). Another thought I had is that I really don’t know if this is the only time I’ll ever come to Senegal- it may be the first and last, or it may be the first of many. I can’t possibly know that right now. So, because of that, I am leaning towards sticking it out. Also, if I did quit, there would be no refund for next week’s lessons, and this would be a good amount of money wasted (I paid $300 for the entire course). This is where I stand on the matter. I have the whole weekend to take a rest from it and gather my thoughts. For now though, I’m just going to live in the moment and see what this day has in store for me. Good, thanks, Ryan for giving that to yourself.

Ok, so now about yesterday: After our morning session of Wolof, a few of us walked to the West African Research Center (WARC), which is located near the University of Cheikh Anta Diop (aka, U. of Dakar), ---- oh, I have a story about Cheikh Anta Diop. Apparently he was a scientist, and he was the first person to ever transcribe the Wolof language. He developed the first Wolof dictionary, and he translated the first Western book into Wolof. ----- ok, so we walked to WARC, which was about a 30 minute walk (never again! Too hot for that), and once we got there we got a nice tour of its facilities. There were several offices for professors who hold affiliations there, and there was an incredible library of West African literature (from both African and Western scholars). It was like being allowed inside a treasure trove. I know, GEEK! It was exciting, and I can’t wait to go back and start picking through their collection!!!

After our visit to WARC, I negotiated with a taxi driver to take us back to Baobab. He wanted to charge 1300 CFAs (roughly $3.50), but I got him down to 1000 (about $2.50). I gave you the exact amounts because I want you to know how weird it is to barter over the difference of $1.00. It is so cheap for me, either way. But that is what you do here, so...? I don’t really feel weird about it until I stop to think about how much I’m actually saving, which is not much.

When we got back to Baobab, we were invited to take part in the cultural values session they were giving for another group of students who had just arrived. They, the Baobab Center, do this for every group that comes through. We had ours a few days after we arrived, and that’s when I had my first encounter with communal eating (remember- the fish in the middle of the bowl and no utensils). For each session like this, they like to have a few members from other groups who have been here longer (sort of like a big-brother big-sister sort of thing). So we had lunch with this group, which is large (about 20 women from Boston University). I still can’t tell you how amazed I am that I enjoy the fish here! And, I thoroughly enjoy eating with my hands! It’s liberating.

There was a woman in that Boston University group that said some really ethnocentric comments. I wasn’t at her bowl, but Scott was, and he was outraged. I guess she said something about how eating with hands was so primitive, and how her impression of Senegalese so far is that they are stuck in the 17^th century, and that their hands are so dirty she’s disgusted they would eat out of them. And the kicker was when they put the bowl in front of everyone and people started digging in, she cupped her mouth and ran out of the room!!! I know these students will be staying with families, and if she’s like this now, she’s not going to survive even one week. I hope, for her sake, that she opens up, but part of me wants to round up people like her and… well, maybe put them on a deserted island somewhere and let them live peacefully amongst themselves. Ignorance!

After lunch we finished up Wolof, and after that, we went to a bar around the corner. Some of the guys had already been there, and I didn’t want to be a Debbie-Downer, so I went along. It was fine- I got a Fanta orange- it was delicious! As we were sitting there, several street sellers walked through the bar (it was an outside, covered patio) selling their goods- some had shoes, some had plastic dinner plates, another had peanuts (those are everywhere- every street corner there’s a woman, squatting, while her peanuts roast- it’s a huge production here), another had phone-cards, another had dish-towels. It was like being on the home shopping network and never having to get up! I didn’t buy anything, except for this fake Armani belt from a young boy (maybe 10?)—he was working me, too! I was amazed at his ability to barter; his confidence and persistence. Normally I think clothes or accessories that shout labels are obnoxious, but I actually did need a belt for one pair of shorts I brought, so I figured what the heck. Bartering with a 10 year old definitely made me feel like an old colonialist taking advantage of his “people.” It was kind of uncomfortable, but again, I have to remind myself that this is how it is here.

When we returned to the apartment (8:30 ish), our cook was there with another delicious meal- paella! This was a first for me. I liked it- wasn’t crazy about it, but I liked it. I also decided to start taking photos of all her meals.

Ok, I better go now. It’s Saturday afternoon, and I’m about to go with Vicki to some sort of presentation at the University. I’ll try to blog again later tonight before I go to bed- get back on my schedule! Until then…