Goat Cheese Monastery

On Sunday a bunch of the volunteers at the center for In Service Training decided to take a field trip. It's our only day off and we did not want to spend it in the center.

One of the volunteers is stationed in a city called Pout. Yes, no joke and don't ask the Senegalese why they named it that. They don't find it funny. Nearby Pout is an A Catholic monestary complete with monks and the monk store which provides the community with trinkets, jams, and best of all, goat cheese!

The monastery has been around since the 60s and owns and operates fruit fields and produces not only jams but dried fruits and assorted candies. They also have a really interesting nativity scene that costs the same as a Belgian waffle maker I found in Thies, but I didn't buy it.

The architecture and designs are very interesting and it is a nice mix of modern art with African influences. We attended Mass and then immediately ran over to the gift shop to buy the goat cheese and jams and then we sat in a gazebo and munched on cheese and jams. Overall, it was a nice break and a fun time.

I will be going back...

WAIST

It’s been a busy last two weeks. On the 7th, the Peace Corps director threw a Super Bowl party at his home for the new volunteers who managed to stay at site for their entire first month. First off, what a house! They had the largest external air conditioner that I had ever seen. Taller than myself, I swear it could knock over a person, it’s so strong. The house was large, plush, and made me want to be an expat! We pre-gamed with chips, cereal and milk, brownies, donuts, chips, etc and later we had tacos, hotdogs and pizza.

We watched the game on the Armed Forces Network, meaning we had no commercials – just the same 30 second speeches by the Secretary of Defense and Obama thanking and encouraging the troops over and over and over. And just so you know….. Gates is a snooze to listen to. I’m just sayin’. The game started at 11:35 and finished way later than most of the volunteers could last and most fell asleep. But I made it.
The next morning, the Peace Corps bused us all to the training center in Thies for a two day session on permagardening ( that’s permanent and gardening)and I got to dig in the dirt and learn a skill that I probably won’t use because I don’t think I can find a 5x5 meter plot that isn’t swarming with trash or poop of some kind. But I know how to build a really effective rainy season garden. Yeah….
Now starts WAIST (10th - 15th)

WAIST is the West African Invitational Softball Tournament, though its acronym is more appropriate, even though you’d have to eliminate the ‘I’. It’s a big softball tournament with teams from all over the area and Peace Corps teams from most regions in Senegal and one national team from both Mali and The Gambia . In years past, there were teams from Mauritania and Guinea, but Peace Corps in those countries has been canceled, though some transfers formed a “refugee” team and managed to do pretty poorly. The embassy had a team as well as a Senegalese team and there were a few others.

Many of us were lucky enough to be given homestays by the Peace Corps. They are families who offer their homes to volunteers during the festivities. My homestay was a young couple married just who had come to Senegal just after the wedding. The husband works for the embassy and his wife is an editor. They were very kind and showed the six boys who stayed there much hospitality. We did our best to be quiet and respectful and not make any noise when we came home at 6 am. I think we were pretty successful. We were encouraged to have fun and vent but leave the party outside. Fair enough.

My region (Kaolack) decided to dress up as lumberjacks for our theme. The Dakar region chose wrestlers, the regions of Tamba and Kedagou united for lack of number to form Tambagou B.C, which involved many loin cloths. The teams from Mali choose “bumpsters” which is a male prostitute, which I thought might cause some problems considering the non-Peace Corps teams didn’t have themes, one being the “Family Team”. Hrmmmm…

All the Peace Corps teams from Senegal lost but Peace Corps Gambia won the social league. The competitive and more professional league was won, oddly enough, by a Senegalese team who played in street clothes and was so overly serious that we had a blast stressing them out. For a team so serious, you think they could have found uniforms. Alas they didn’t and just wore American street clothes and managed to look like a bunch of hoodlums running from the po po. Our teams weren’t so serious. It’s kind of hard to play baseball with a beer in one hand. But hey, we got some laughs.

Every night was a different party at a different location and each was a total blast. It was great getting to experience Dakar and seeing what the city has to offer. It's so completely different from the rest of the country. The only downside to the weekend had to adjust to non-Dakar life, which can be jarring.

Currently, I'm going through In Service Training (IST) at the center in Thies and will have more on this shortly...

What A Nice Bracelet You Have

Friday morning my friend and I left Koungheul for Kaolack in our two day trip to make it to Dakar.

My endeavor to leave Koungheul started with the usual disorganized mess of people and baggage. I had to walk to the garage with all my luggage, of course, being a foreigner, I was harrassed endlessly by the children of the town. "Give me money" and "Give me a gift" are all I hear when I walk around.

We found a sept place at the garage and hopped in. The far back seat was empty so we opted to take both window seats. An hour later, two seats are still empty and those of us in the car are itching to go. Finally, for some reason, the driver pulls out of the garage and takes a turn in the wrong direction.

After a bout of confusion we ended at the Gendarmerie, where one man and a gendarme get in the car, thereby filling all seats and giving us the green light to start our travels.

Interestingly, my friend was acquainted with the man who sat between us as they had once met on a bus. He informed my friend he was traveling to Kaolack for a program. Two hours later pass and we are going through a city that I can't recognize and I decide to lean forward for a better look out of the window. As I am doing this, I notice this man has an odd metal bracelet on his right wrist. Leaning slightly more forward, I see a chain connecting this odd bracelet to another on his left wrist. They were handcuffs!!!

This explains why the Gendarme was in the car! I'm not sure what kind of 'program' he had to go to but he started his visit to Kaolack at the Justice Palace. I never noticed the handcuffs because he was wearing a long sleeved shirt and kept his hands covered with his mini briefcase.

The adventures continue....

Yo Mamma...

I have just witnessed the mother of all family disputes.

I'm not sure how the argument started nor from where it came nor what it was really about. But, like a tornado, it roared from nowhere and ruffled a lot of feathers. I didn't see my chicken for a hour afterward.

I was in my room when the ruckus started. At first, I figured the family was horsing around, as often happens with a big family. But the noise continued and the tone changed. I left my room, agitated that now, along with the goat, the mosque loudspeakers, the chickens, and the village idiot's children, I could add my family to the reasons that peace alludes me. Strolling out of my door and onto my porch, I saw my 18 year old host brother yelling profusely and irately at his aunt. I watch as the 65 year old grandmother attempted to separate the two while another aunt and the children watched on in dazed amusement. I stayed on, as it's not rude to be involved in everyone's business and I didn't mind a new piece de theatre. The most poignant moment was when the second aunt gave up running interference and sat down with her head in her hand.

Several times the grandmother was able to calm and separate my host brother from his aunt and and each time the aunt taunted him back. And all for what? I don't really know, but the aunt kept repeating "your mother." I think this stems back to the fact that my host brother's mother, who currently lives in Kaolack, is trying to go to school and raise three children. I don't know many details except that the aunt is jealous of whatever my host mother has. Why exactly? I don't know. I guess someone in the family, whom I don't know is giving her money and the aunt is envious of her opportunities.

Arguments and disputes in Senegal vary greatly from those in the US. At first glance, they do appear the same; yelling, gesturing, insults, and the occasional fist throwing. What separates the two is the pent up frustration and roundabout ways of approaching everything in live.

Frustration here is guarded and kept and left to fester. Socially, it is unacceptable to confront someone directly with one's grievances. Roundabout approaches are always best. A wrong is settled with a third party go-between who relays information and feelings. Yeah... and don't we all remember how well that worked in middle school? So, to fix this, we make off handed comments and allusions to someone else's money and fortunes, usually in the form of underlying one's lack thereof.

Just this morning, my surreptitious host aunt asked me if I liked tea. I replied with a sigh and the usual comment of "I don't have money," which, this month, has been exceptionally aggravating as I truly don't.

Also, your business is not just your own. Everybody be up in theybody's bidnez. I don't understand it. I equate to the fact that there is nothing else to do but gossip and you have to get someone else to do your dirty work. This is by far one of the most difficult differences to adapt to. I have dodged so many intrusive questions about my finances and what I pay for things.

When is someone going to import the stress ball?