So I’m back in the states, safe and sound, although I’m very cold and have been kind of sick.

But anyway, a few stories from my last days in Senegal. Thursday we had our Wolof exam, and then we were done. Although some of us had papers left to write, but I had made sure to finish all of mine by Thursday. Allison was having some problems with her computer, her power cord wasn’t working so she had to go home to borrow her neighbor’s. So Ryan and I went to Caesars for the last time. When we were leaving, Ryan asked me if I thought this one talibé would want a t-shirt (she was giving away some that she didn’t really need anymore). I looked at the talibé and said, “Well, he’s not wearing one.” So she gave him a t-shirt.

Friday I went into WARC. I spent some time on the internet, and then we had a final goodbye dinner. Waly, Awa, and Adji, who all work at WARC, went with us to dinner, we went to this place called “Balajo” which was only a 15 minute walk from WARC. It was actually very nice. Kind of a yuppie-looking place, it had stuff on the menu that no one knew what it was. But it was really delicious, and it was nice to spend some time with Awa, Adji, and Waly.

Afterwards, Ryan, Allison, and I went downtown to go to this bar, which we had read had a panoramic view of the city. We went to walk in, and there were only three guys sitting there, watching TV, and it was all kind of dark. Apparently the whole hotel was actually closed (although it was weird that doors were still open so you could walk in). So we walked a block down to another bar, and just chilled there. Of course, we got harrased by guys when we were going in and out, people trying to sell stuff and also possibly grab things out of our bag. Ryan lost her insulin pump, and we think it was one of those guys. Although, we were trying to imagine their anger when thy realized the little electronic device they grabbed was really worth nothing, unless they knew someone who had diabetes, lol. But it really sucked for Ryan.

Saturday night we went to the French institute, which was of course delicious. There was also a movie showing there which was about travel in Dakar. It was a musical about traveling on the sept-places from Dakar from St. Louis. It was really funny for us, because we just kept thinking during the whole movie, “Yep, that’s so Senegal!” and laughing at transportation we recognized. When I got back to my house, Aziz and I went for a walk to the park and then just chatted for a while.

My host mom with the Cantonese Rice she made

Sunday, Ryan, Allison, and Bobby came over to my house. We shared all of our pictures, which took a really long time. Then we ate a delicious meal of Cantonese rice prepared by my host mom. We also took some time to show off all of our clothes that we had tailored, plus some jewelry, etc that we had bought. That was really fun. One of Aziz’s friends was there for a bit as well. He was one that had helped me with some computer problems that I had been having. There was also one kid that came over. His name is Mohammad, and he is friends with Aziz. He is about 13. He had asked me to teach him some English, or at least help him with things he was having problems with in class. But mostly, our review sessions, when they happened, turned into him asking questions in French. He came over, and talked to Allison, Ryan, and I in French for a while. At one point Ryan had to give herself insulin, and being that her pump was stolen, she had to use a needle. So she just stuck it in. Mohammad saw this, and his eyes got really big, but he didn’t say anything, and we didn’t explain at all. But the look on his face was priceless. Other than that, he was just his usual talkative self, and was really funny.

Some of our dresses, etc:

I have a bag made from Ryan's material

So much green!

Aziz is in his dressy outfit.

Ryan’s flight was the next morning at 6 in the morning, so she was just planning on staying up until she had to get a taxi. Everyone left in the evening, and then I just finished packing.

"Garage" where Babacar took his car.

The next day I went over to Babacar’s house. His phone was working, so I had his brother let him in, and I think he really disproved. But Babacar had to go to the garage to get his car fixed so he can sell it. So I decided to go with him so we could spend the day together. The “garage” was actually this piece of land, where there were sections where different people worked on cars. Each section was a mix between a junkyard and a car repair shop. For lunch, we went across the street to Cap Asie, this restaurant Allison really wanted to try, but we never got around to it. It was pretty good, and had a wonderful selection of nems. We went back to the garage. On the way, Babacar bought a BMW logo that goes on the front of the car, because someone had stolen his. I asked him if I should get a Mercedes one, and then put it on my car an tell everyone I have a Mercedes. I don’t think he thought it was that funny. But anyway, his car is all fixed up, and we drove around a bit then hung out for a bit more.

Babacar looking really excited in the BMW he is about to sell.

Chillaxing in some random car seat.

Then it was time for me to go home so I could eat, and then go to the airport. My family came with me to the airport to say goodbye. I forgot that you have to have a passport to get into the check-in area, unlike the states, where you just can’t go past security, but that is after you check your bags. So I realized once again that my white skin is a sort of passport in and of itself, when I walked right threw the gates, no problem, but security stopped my host mom and Aziz and asked them if they had a flight. So I said goodbye to Aziz and my host mom there. I will really miss Aziz so much.

So in the states, when they tell you to be there 3 hours before your flight, that means you better be there and check in at least 3 hours beforehand or they will get angry. In Senegal, 3 hours means they start thinking about checking in people 3 hours before the flight time. I got there a little earlier than I needed to, but I didn’t know how long the taxi ride would be. So by the 3 hour mark, everything was set up to check people in, as well go through the extra security measures required by the US. But then the staff had a meeting for 20 minutes, and then we had to wait for another 15 for an official police officer to show up to supervise the inspection of luggage. I think hypothetically, everyone is supposed to have their luggage gone through, but they started running out of time. So I went through that security, and then the normal security, which is twice as much as a I went through to get to Morocco. Oh having to travel back to the US.

So I finally made it on the plane, and it was pretty uneventful. We hit some turbulence, and at one point it was scary, because we hit turbulence, and the map showed us going over “Bermuda” and I thought, “Oh no!” but everything was okay, we just took an hour longer in our flight.

So I made it back to the United States and then immediately got really sick. It was quite unpleasant. I spent Christmas Eve in the hospital, because I thought I was getting better, but then towards the evening I felt so sick, and nothing else was open. They gave me a lot of tests, and then gave me some morphine, which just put me to sleep. Then I went and got some prescriptions from the only CVS open 24 hours, and then went home. I spent Christmas day really hopped up on pain meds, which was kind of fun. But the antibiotics started working really well, so I felt tons better. Then my sinuses started acting up too. But I think I’ve been sick enough to last me a while.

It’s been funny being back in the states though, the moments I haven’t been under the influence of narcotics. I went to a restaurant and the server came right up, introduced himself, took our drink orders, then later our food orders. He came back multiple times to check on us; it was incredible. I also went to Target, and there was just an entire drawer filled with change. I said to my family, “Wow, look at all that change!” Although a disadvantage of not being in Senegal is the loss of an ability to talk about people who are right there. A lot of times we would all just talk in English about say, a taxi driver, or anyone who was doing something we wanted to point out. But when I said this in Target, the cashier, who probably spoke English perfectly, or at least close, kind of looked weirded out by me, and I lamely tried to explain why I was so excited by change, but it was just awkward. Oh well.

Anyway, I’m enjoying being back in the luxaries of the US, but I miss the nice weather of Senegal. But I DO NOT miss cold showers...mmm I love hot showers. I guess the hardest part of traveling, though, is leaving little bits of my heart all over the world. I do miss the people I met there, both Senegalese and American, and it’s weird suddenly not being around them after a semester.

So I got my two dresses back from the tailor. One was a little too big, so I'm having it taken in. But here are pics, anyway, plus a pic of my purse:


So i've just been chilling, I finished my papers & my wolof exam. I've been doing last going-out things with people. Plus I started packing today. I feel pretty good about it, I have little weighing device so I can see how heavy my suitcases are, and so far it's looking as though i'll make it, even with all the stuff I bought when I was here.

This will probably be my last blog entry from Senegal. I don't think I'll have internet between now and leaving. But I'll probably have a last wrap-up entry. Can't believe I'll be home so soon!

Last week was the final week of our classes, except for language classes. So now I’m in the middle of writing final papers, which really isn’t that much. Plus we have and exam in Wolof on Thursday. It seems weird that the semester is actually wrapping up.

Anyway, last week I got a purse made with the extra meter of fabric that was left over from my first dress. It is SO pretty! And Allison and Ryan liked it so much that the took some fabric to my tailor to have a bags made as well. I think the tailor thinks so many bags is a really weird request, but oh well. We’re white, so we can just use that as an excuse to do odd things. I am also getting two more dresses made and I am so excited!

Allison, Ryan, and I decided to go to Joal this past weekend. Joal is a fishing village on the coast, about 3 hours south of Dakar by car. It is also the hometown of Leopold Senghor, the first president of Senegal.

Ocean at Joal

Babacar was supposed to come with us, as he has never been to Joal. Unfortunately, cultural miscommunications prevented that from happening. I told him we were going on the weekend, and then later that we were leaving on Friday. Thursday night I called him to tell him to meet up with us at 9 the next morning. And he was like, “Oh, we’re leaving that early?” and then proceeded to explain that he had scheduled a meeting at 4:00 PM on Friday, because he thought we could just leave after that. To me, that is a completely ridiculous time to leave, because the day is practically over, plus you still would have to drive all the way there. But then again, this is from a guy who left Dakar at 9 at night to drive to Thies (about an hour away), to visit his grandparents on Tabaski. He didn’t make it back to Dakar until 5 in the morning! He did try to leave around 8 or 9 to come to Joal, but the cars were no longer going to Joal. Oh well.

Getting to Joal was quite an adventure. Allison, Ryan, and I went to this place called “Gare Pompiers” which translates literally to “Firefighter station.” But it’s actually this area where there are tons of “sept-place”s, which are cars kind of like station with room for 7 passengers. So we went there and each paid about $4 to go to Joal. Luckily, we timed it so we got to sit in the three seats in the middle, rather than the back. It would’ve been way more uncomfortable back there. While we were waiting for the other seats to fill up, people were just wandering around, shoving random items in the windows, trying to sell us everything from pirated cds to bananas.

We got to Joal, and then took a taxi to our auberge. Taxis are super cheap in Joal, even more so than Dakar, which I just didn’t think was possible! It was really funny, though, as we were driving along, our taxi driver suddenly stops and then reverses, and we were like, “Are we here?” He just responded, “No, there’s my mom.” And just stopped to exchange some words in Wolof. Ryan asked if she was okay and our driver said of course she was okay. But I just think it would’ve been a faux pas for him to drive past without stopping. Haha.

Our auberge was pretty cool. I think we were the only people staying there. It sat right on the river, which was cool. We asked the owner, which was actually this quite young-looking guy, what were good things to do and how to get there. He said that Senghor’s father’s house was about 5 minutes away, and we should go there. Also close to Joal is the biggest Baobab in all of Senegal. Baobabs are basically the national tree of Senegal, they are these really cool-looking trees. So the auberge owner said that we could take a horse-drawn cart to there, and he would call and make an appointment for us at 5.

So we went to get something to eat, and just went to this restaurant, which was basically just someone’s house where they had set up a table, and served us whatever they were fixing for that day. Our meal cost less than $2. Then we asked them where Senghor’s house was, and they had their little girl show us. It wasn’t that far away, but of course being Senegal, it was closed from 1 to 3. So we went to go back to our auberge, but instead took a detour and just walked along this cool-looking road. We saw a lot of mangroves, and there was a reforestation program there. Mangroves were the same thing we helped reforest way back in Toubacouta (that was SO long ago!). They are really helpful as they help prevent erosion, as well as restore tons of nutrients to the soil.

When we were done with our walk, it was about 3:00, so we went back to Senghor’s father’s house. And of course, being Senegal, it hadn’t reopened. So we sat across the street for a while. After a while, this group of Senegalese men pulled up to the house as well. They tried to get in, but couldn’t, so they actually called someone to come give us a tour. They actually came over to talk to us while they waited, which was okay. We started going with them on the tour, but the guide just talked SO MUCH! It was really funny though, because in true Senegalese fashion, all of the four men answered their cell phones during the course of this tour, stood a few feet away, and talked really loudly. Senegalese people just don’t know how to not answer their cell phone, or at least be subtle about it. Such as our teachers, who have all answered their cell phones at some point in class. We wandered around the house for a bit, which was set up to have a section talking about Senghor’s father with his 5 wives (despite technically being Christian. And even Muslims are limited to 4 wives!) Senghor had over 40 brothers and sisters! Another section of the house was devoted to Leopold Senghor, details about his life, politically and otherwise, as well as his literature. (He was quite a good poet). The other section of the house was devoted to Serer culture. Serer is a minority ethnic group in Senegal, which makes up a lot of the population of Joal, and other nearby areas. Many Serers are fishermen.

Me, with a statue of Leopold Senghor

We went back to our auberge and had a quick resting time, before a guy came up to our room and said he was here to take us on our tour. So we went outside, and there was a horse with a cart. This cart was really just a platform with wheels under it. So we got on, and were off. Our driver was really nice, and we talked to him for the entire time. He said the horse’s name was Michael Jackson, which we thought was funny. Also, he told us he had named his dog Jay-Z (for you older folks, that is one of the biggest rappers). Pretty much our entire conversation was ridiculous and funny. Our driver also decided that it was a really good idea to go fast, which had me hanging on to the platform, which wasn’t that easy, for dear life, and almost being bounced off a few times. It was really hard because I could only grab onto the side, which really wouldn’t help much if I were bounced off the side. I was really glad when we slowed down, but it was pretty fun. We drove through this random village, where people stared at us. This one girl looked at us with the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen. But I guess seeing white people here is even more uncommon than in Dakar; I can’t tell you how much I heard “TOUBAB!” when I was in Joal. Also, one guy along the side of the road when we were on the cart/platform told me I had a “jaayfonde” (j eye fun-day), which means I have a big butt. Allison was like, “that’s not nice,” but I reminded her that here, in Africa, it is. African men LOVE LOVE LOVE large butts, and so telling me I have a “jaayfonde” is a compliment. lol.

The Biggest Baobab in all of Senegal

But anyway, we finally made it to the biggest baobab in all of Senegal, which was cool. There was someone there who told us a little about it, and then led us INSIDE the Baobab. We had to enter through this really small opening, but then the whole inside was just hollowed out, which I think is just how Baobabs grow. (WARNING: IF YOU DON’T LIKE BATS DON’T READ THIS NEXT SECTION, AND DON’T LOOK AT THE NEXT PICTURE, SKIP TO AFTER THE NEXT PICTURE) The only disturbing part was that we realized there were bats that had made the inside of the baobab, some actually peed on Ryan. I don’t mind bats, but I took a picture up to the top of the inside of the trunk. There were probably more than a hundred bats! Wow. Kind of a little gross and freaky. I’m glad that I’m not super against bats, because there was no easy way to get out of that baobab in haste. Any attempts to flee probably would’ve ended up awkward and hiliarious for everyone else. Although for Allison, it wasn’t until after we’d gotten out that I showed her this picture and she realized just how many bats there were!

Bats, inside the Baobab

(OKAY, IT’S SAFE TO READ THIS SECTION) Of course, there were things you could buy from sellers around the Baobab, but everything I could easily find in Dakar and just really didn’t need. So we got back on the horse-drawn platform and went back. It was really cool because we got to see the sunset as we were riding across the Senegalese flatlands.

Sunset as we rode back

When we got back to the auberge, we asked the owner if there was a place where we could eat American-ish food, and he told us about this really nearby place called “Jamm rekk” (Peace Only in Wolof). We went there, and it was delicious! Allison got a hamburger, which she had been craving, Ryan got Falafel, and I got this really delicious chicken. It was cooked so well that it basically fell off the bone. That is SO RARE in Senegal. No one cooks their meat to a tender state. I also realized that I used two words (well, rare) regarding meat, but not in the way that it usually means, haha). We also all got fries, which has become a consistent present in pretty much every meal I eat in Senegal. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I go back to the states, where that would be a bad idea. Here, the fries are actually friend in oil and everything, but we haven’t really started to gain a lot of weight from eating fries all the time, maybe because we always walk it off. But this IS NOT a habit I can continue in the states.

We just went back to our auberge after that, and relaxed for a while, and eventually went to sleep. We didn’t set our alarm because we knew there wasn’t that much to do the next day, plus as the only clients we could pretty much request breakfast whenever. We got up and got our breakfast of bread, butter, jam, coffee, and orange juice. Then we went over to Fadiout, which is an island made of seashells that is connected to Joal by a bridge. It was close enough to walk, so we did. Then island was kind of cool, it’s always fascinating so see and Island just made of seashells. People have houses there and everything. Of course there were tons of touristy items, but we just walked past those. Also, over another bridge there was another seashell island, which was also a Christian-Muslim cemetery. That was cool to see, just another example of the religious sharing that exists in Senegal. After that, there really wasn’t much else to do, so we just went to get lunch, we went back to Jamm Rekk because we liked it so much. Then we left and went back to Dakar.

Bridge to Fadiout

Cemetary on the shell Island

Sunday Ryan and I went over to Allison’s house because her mom was making us Yassa Poulet, which is a Senegalese dish. It was so delicious. And of course, right as your starting to realize you’re bursting full of food, and really thankful the plate is almost finished, more food is brought and added. We hung out the rest of the day chatting and studying, and writing all the papers that are due this week. When I got back from this, I saw that my family had decorated a Christmas tree! It's just a little one that Aziz decorate himself, in true Senegales fashion of as much brightness as possible. There is so much garland you can barely see the tree, and the lights are in the shape of tiny apples, and are lime green, hot pink, bright blue, etc, and blink in a random fashion. There are little Santa ornaments, and christmas balls, and ornaments that look like gifts. Aziz and his mom do celebrate Christmas, in the same way that Christians in Senegal share in Muslim holidays, which is nice. It made me a little homesick to see the tree; it made me think of the OUTRAGEOUS amounts of Christmas decorations I'll see once I get home.

My host fam & I with the Xmas tree

Monday was our last Wolof class (we just have the exam on Thursday). Then afterwards was when Ryan and Allison came with me to go to the tailor. I had told my host mom the day before that we wanted to do that, so I figured we would be good to go, although I did warn Allison and Ryan that my host mom sometimes takes a while to get ready and sometimes the tailor isn’t there. So of course, when we got to my house, the tailor was in another neighborhood of Dakar, so we would have to wait. Allison was most annoyed by this, because she is not quite as laid back as me when it comes to time. She gets frustrated really easily when people don’t show up on time or when they said they would, etc. Whereas I kind of just adjust to it, like my friend Pious is always super late, so I’ve just learned to never actually go at the agreed time when we are planning to meet up. And this whole semester, it’s been okay that I have to wait until 10 or 11 at night most days for dinner. But anyway, the tailor came back around 8, only a half an hour or so after we got to my house. So we went there so Ryan and Allison could show how they wanted their bags made. And like I said before, the tailor thought it was a weird request, and sometimes my host mom and the tailor would say something in Wolof, usually gesturing to the fabric or the bags that we brought to model, and then would laugh a lot.

After that, I went and met up with Babacar and one of his friends at the bar called, Le Mermoz, which actually had drinks, unlike the time we went there before Tabaski. We hung out for a while, which was fun.

The US is getting so close! I’m ready to go home, but I’m also sad. I think I’ll miss my host brother especially, and my host mom, and Babacar. There are plenty of things I’m looking at getting away from, but there are things I know I’ll look back on and go, “Aww, I wish I could go back to that.”

Aziz and I having fun, taking random pics. lol!

I went to the “artisanal village” again with Allison and Ryan, that is the market that sells touristy items that are supposedly made there. Anyway, we were all looking for final Christmas gifts, and also so more things for ourselves. We always fall prey to the really cool necklaces and earrings that we see everywhere. I ended up getting fabric that I can make into a dress.

That is the really cool thing about Senegal, that you can get dresses tailor-made for SUPER cheap. Like I took my fabric (which cost $2 a meter) and got a dress made for a little over $10. I love Africa. I brought a dress that I have already to model this dress after. I thought that would be better as I wanted a more western-style dress rather than Senegalese-style. It’s kind of short, at least for Senegal, so I wore leggings under it when I wore it out. The dress that I used as a model falls a little lower on my, but I think it’s because it’s of a different kind of material that is heavier and hangs lower. It’s really weird, though, how I kind of felt uncomfortable wearing such a short dress, since I haven’t worn something that short since being here. Everything I brought with me goes to my knees at least. I’m sure I’ll get over that once I get back to chucktown. And now I’m kind of obsessed with these dress possibilities, and may be getting some more made.

On a less frivolous note, I had something made that I actually needed. When I was at the artisanal village, I saw some leather shoes that were nice. But since I have abnormally large feet (thanks, mom!) there weren’t any “feminine” shoes in my size. But the guy said he could make some for me. I showed him the style I really liked. Then he traced my feet on cardstock, and we haggled for a price. I ended up paying $10. Which Aziz says I only should’ve $6, but I guess the other $4 is just a “Toubab Tax”. Oh well.

This weekend we went to St. Louis. This was the original center of the French colonial administration in Senegal. Everyone from the Wells Program went. The trip was led by the “Senegal Today” professor. I am not in that class, but I was invited on the trip. We drove in a car, which was about 5 hours each way or so. Half way there, we pulled over on the side of the road, where there were just car motors sitting around. Then our driver was like, umm…we have to fix the brakes, so we’re going to rest a bit here.

Really? C’est ça, l’Afrique (That’s that: Africa). So we just chilled in some random town in Senegal while our brakes were rotated. And the professor was like, “Did you hear that screeching? We needed to get new brakes.” To which I responded, “I feel like that should’ve actually happened a while ago.” The professor just kind of looked at me. And Ryan asked, sarcastically, “Wait, you mean you don’t wait for that sound?” And I said, no, you have your mechanic check your brake pad every time you get your tires rotated.” And Ryan just looks at me and says, “I just don’t think that exists here.”

So we finally made it St. Louis, but unfortunately it was already evening, since we had also left kind of late. So we had a nice dinner of pizza, and followed by a generous and delicious portion of chocolate mousse. After we just chilled in our room. The auberge we stayed in was set up really nice. Allison and I played war for a REALLY long time, and Ryan watched us as well as was kind of hyper due to the mousse. Rodline just talked on her computer. And Bobby was in his room, maybe sleeping.

We got up the next day and toured around St. Louis. We drove past the governor’s palace, and went to the fishing area, and to the beach. There was a cool guy who played with some of the beach dogs. It was SO tempting to touch these dogs, but just not safe. The guy I’m guessing was used to it. He was also a shopowner, so I think he uses that tactic for Europeans/American who go, “Aww, that’s cute, let’s buy from that guy.” Too bad I’ve already spent WAY too much money. We also went to the point where the Senegal River meets the Atlantic Ocean, which I guess was kind of cool.

We saw SO MANY goats & sheep all along our drive. So we spent a lot of the time discussing how to tell them apart. I had been pretty confident in differentiating between goats and sheeps, being that sheep are fluffy and goats are not. But that changed when I got to Senegal, because fluffy sheep would just get REALLY hot. So the sheep here can be confused by an American for goats. But once you really start to look, you see the difference. The biggest one is that sheeps’ tails hang down and goats’ stand up. Also sheeps’ horns stick out more to the side and curve in loops, whereas goats’ tend to stick back more and not curve in circles as much. Also, Allison pointed out that goats typically have beards. At which point (and only my mom would get this, and maybe my sisters, but they’ll just roll their eyes) a voice popped into my head saying, “It’s the beards!” haha.

So we drove back to Dakar only after traveling around St. Louis for 3 hours or so. The ride back was pretty uneventful. But it was just SO LONG for such a short amount of sightseeing. But it was still a pretty fun time, and I got some studying done in the car.

Tuesday, I went out for a beer with the “Senegal Today” Professor, and Ryan, Allison, and Bobby, who are actually students in that class. But I think he really likes me, because we had some interesting conversations in St. Louis. It was their last class, and their teacher is F-ING WEIRD. There really is no other way to say it. I mean, he’s cool. He just says the most ridiculous and funny things. He has quite a command of the English language, and also curses in English. But he makes tons of random jokes, like he said we had to leave St. Louis by a certain time in order to avoid the traffic “jellies” in Dakar. Everything he says/does is funny. So we went for beers, and were just discussing. And he was just joking around. And Ryan, who was feeling sick, only drank half of her beer. I was drinking beer, even though I’m not a fan. Although Gazelle, the beer bottled here, is pretty okay. Anyway, the teacher was like, “Shannon, you should have more beer.” And I responded, “No, I’m fine—well, ok” as he poured more beer into my glass. Then he said, “Don’t worry, I am going to take you home.” And then he started to sing a song about taking me home. And he really did take us all home (Like I said, DUIs I just don’t think are a thing here. Plus he hadn’t been drinking that much, plus there is so much traffic, it’s hard to do any real damage.) He dropped me off last, and when we were almost at my house, but stuck in a “traffic jelly” he says, “I really have to make water.” This apparently comes from a Morgan Freeman line in Driving Miss Daisy where he needs to pee. (I’ve never seen the movie). But anyway, my tipsy self responded, “ME TOO!” and then for the next five minutes, the professor just kept telling other cars, “Move, people need to make water here!” I really like that a teacher can do all this without worrying about the amount he will have to say when he sued big time. Sometimes the States just has a little too much worry over liability, etc. But here life is just not that serious.

“There are people that have it a lot worse.” ::: “Even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn’t change the fact that you have what you have” ~Perks of Being a Wallflower



So being here in Africa, I’ve been confronted every day with people who really do have it much worse than I do. There are, of course, the talibé, who are children sent away from there parents who were too poor to feed them, and sent to beg in the streets. There are women begging as well, even old women, there are women with children, blind men, men with limbs that no longer work. People who work in the small shops or street vendors often sleep right where their shop is so that they don’t have to own a house as well. There are people who can’t afford any sort of housing and really do sleep on the ground. There are no vagrancy laws, so police officers won’t come around and force people to “move along” while they are just trying to sleep.



I think a lot about how sometimes my worries are so pointless in comparison to other people’s problems. But I’ve never really subscribed to that point of view. I think everyone has there own problems, no matter how insignificant they might seem in comparison. Like my computer not working and being frustrating this whole semester…well there are some people who don’t even have computers! But for me and my life, it has been a big deal and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Okay, and I’m about to use a really superficial analogy, but I think it works. It’s like in Titanic (I know you just rolled your eyes). But there is Jack, who may or may not know if he’s going to eat again. Then there is Rose, who is guaranteed meals every day. Her biggest problem is being forced into a loveless marriage due to financial reasons, etc, etc. And after Jack rescues her, she makes a statement something like, “I know what you’re thinking, ‘spoiled little rich girl, what has she got to worry about?’” But then Jack responds with something like “No, I was just wondering what could be so terrible that you would think about killing yourself?” I think everyone’s tragedies are tragedies in their own lives. Compared to others they may seem insignificant or silly. And I think maybe sometimes it is important to step back and examine how SUPERFICIAL your worries might be, if your biggest problem is having a zit or you’re sad you didn’t end up with a sparkling vampire, or that your boyfriend might be a geek, then maybe you need to reexamine what’s important in your life.



But even believing that, I still cannot help but realize that being white and from America has given me great advantages in life. I sailed through high school without all that much effort, and got (almost) straight A’s while doing so. That, in addition to good SAT scores, and presumably a good essay helped me get into college, the honors college, and receive a full tuition scholarship in one easy step. And even if I hadn’t gotten that scholarship, I would’ve had my parents to help me pay for college. I’ve been able to work at a summer camp for a few summers, not making a lot of money, but doing something I love, plus not hold a job during the school year, all thanks to my parents. And for that I’m grateful. But still it shows my life is not all that hard.



I get upset sometimes when people here try to charge me outrageous prices just because I’m white. I always say, “But I’m a student, I’m don’t actually have money.” Which is kind of true. I really don’t have much money. (So if you’ve been enjoying these blog entries, always feel free to send the writer donations, perhaps to purchase new shoes!!!) But compared to people here in Senegal, I still have a good amount of money. I have a bank account with a dot of American money, which is more than many people here can say.



Babacar looked at me today, and said, “Shannon, it’s hard being African.” Now Babacar comes from a decently well off family. He is the youngest of a number of siblings (I forget how many). But they are spread out across the world, in France, Italy, America, etc. His mom is a business woman, she sells things, sometimes in New York, or also some European countries. Babacar has a 2006 BMW, but he is trying to sell it since he needs the money as well as he is going to America in January and therefore doesn’t need to have a car in Senegal. But despite all this, I know he has it harder than I do. He is going to a program outside of NY, where he will get ready for college, and then he has to choose a college to go to. One school he was looking at was actually Towson, but pointed out there was NO WAY he could afford that. He is looking at some other schools, but it’s hard. He is having some problems getting to NY, the plane is expensive, and the travel agency here in Senegal unhelpful. But overall, he is getting things working. I just know he has to put in a lot more effort than I ever did to say, come to Senegal.



But I look at Aziz and I see a lot of hardship. Sure, Aziz’s family has a house, running water, food, and don’t forget the pet sheep. He does have a father who is and ASS (even though I’ve never met the guy). Like I told you earlier, he was unable to go to his university this year, because his uncle was suddenly unable to pay for it. Although, on another note, his uncle’s wife is leaving him because times are too hard now. But anyway, so Aziz started a job at a television station. He does a lot of graphic design. Aziz is the only one that works there without a college degree, but has managed to impress his boss repeatedly. Aziz is definitely a bright guy, he picks up on things really easily, and really puts his heart into graphic design. Most of the software he had never actually used before, but lied to his boss and said he had. But he’s managed to learn the software really quickly and his boss constantly says, “And you really have never been to college???” I really think Aziz could go places if he just had the opportunity.



Senegal is set up kind of like the French system for school. In order to finish high school, you have to pass the “Bac”. Even if you go to high school, finish all the required classes, none of this matters unless you pass the “Bac”. And Aziz was explaining to me that once you do, your name goes on a list of people who have graduated. Well Aziz has taken and passed the Bac. His mom went to check on something for the university today. And for some reason, Aziz’s name wasn’t on this list. Aziz told me that sometimes it’s possible in Senegal for people to “buy” degrees. Which means, they take someone’s name off that list, and put in their own. And Aziz was one of the people taken off, possibly because he didn’t sign up for a university this fall, so his name wasn’t already attached to a university, or something like that. This means that Aziz can now not get into a university. He may have to go back and retake classes in high school, and retake the Bac, which costs money, plus would take up time where he can’t work to try to save up for college. I couldn’t fathom why he can’t just go to where he took the exam, say “I need a confirmation that I took/passed the Bac, and they would give him something, or make sure his name got put on the “List” where it should be.” But Aziz told me this would cost money, because everything costs money in Senegal. It would cost something around $25 or more. That doesn’t seem like a lot, but at his job Aziz makes about $1 an hour. So this is a problem. Aziz has always talked about going to college for graphic design, and would love more than anything else to come to the United States and study graphic design. He says that America is the place to go for that. But this kind of puts a wrench in those plans. You can’t exactly go to college without a high school degree. I really just don’t know what to say. I’m stressing about applying to grad school, and I know this is really important to me, but seems silly when I imagine someone can’t get into undergrad just because someone stole their degree. But what really bothers me more is that there’s not an easy way to prove, like no, I really did take the exam. More than anything, it’s just the injustice of it all that kills me.

Tabaski was definitely an interesting experience. And I really think that we will be having sheep pretty much the rest of the time that I am here.

Anyway, Friday night Rodline, Allison, and I decided we wanted to hang out. However, since I usually don’t eat until 11 at night or later, Allison ended up getting too tired before I was ready, so she just went home. At around midnight or so, Aziz, Rodline, Babacar, and I met up, and we went to this one bar to chill. But we got there and asked what the guy had to drink. There wasn’t a menu, so he just said they had either Gin or Whiskey. Rodline asked if they had Gazelle (a New Zealand beer) and they did. But they didn’t have any sprite, and Rodline likes to mix Gazelle and Sprite. And Babacar was sad, because they didn’t have Flag, which is the other most popular beer you find in Senegal. Then I asked if they had any sort of juice, and they said no. They also did not have Coca-Cola. We all kind of looked at each other incredulously, and then we just left. How can this place be running!!!!!!!!!!????????????

So we walked to another bar nearby but for some reason it was closed. Babacar said it was because Tabaski was tomorrow. I just said that should be MORE reason for it to be open, since the next day was a holiday. Whatevs. We ended up taking a taxi to downtown, to a bar.



I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but my favorite road in all of Dakar is the Corniche. It was only built two years ago. It doesn’t have any potholes, although it does have speedbumps. You can travel relatively fast (except when you get to the speedbumps). The best part is, though, that it travels right on the beach. If you look out you can see the ocean. It’s pretty sweet. I always hope the cab driver will go on the corniche whenever I get in.

Anyway, we took the taxi to downtown (via the Corniche) and went into this bar called “Le Viking”. It was pretty chill, we went up to the second floor and just sat around for a while, until everyone got really tired.

So since I had gone to bed so late, I was able to sleep in the next day. ALL NIGHT I could here that other sheep bleeting in it’s low, throaty voice. And of course, Magique decided that he had to respond. I had made my decision that in no way did I want to see the actual killing of the sheep. In the morning, My mom closed my door, and I closed my windows (yes I have windows to my room, idk y). I could still here somethings, but it wasn’t as loud. There was the chanting/singing from the Mosque, where Aziz was praying. And the two sheep just continued. Then at one point during my sleeping in, I could no longer hear both sheep, but just Magique. When I finally decided it was okay to get up, I walked out. Someone that Aziz knows was butchering the sheep in the courtyard of our house. I don’t really mind watching this, it’s just meat. I just didn’t want to see the moment when life was wiped from the animal, and the sheep turned into just meat.

So this butchering process went on for a while, and poor Magique had to watch the whole thing! My host mom was cooking up some good things in the kitchen as well. Then we had (some of) the sheep grilled on a charcoal grill (delicious!). All day, Aziz would leave with some of the sheep, and go give it to other people. Then people would come over and give us some of their sheep. So we have SO MUCH SHEEP MEAT in our freezer right now. So much. We finally ate, though, for our first and only time at about 6. It was so good, though. We had sheep, of course, plus fries, bread, and salad. I talked to some of the other study abroad kids, who said that they had 3 or more meals, starting at around 12. But Aziz said that since my host mom is the only woman in the house, she has to do everything, and therefore it takes a while.

I think my host mom has given up on my ability to cook, and besides she makes me upset when every time I do help, she criticizes me for not doing it right. For example, the other day I was making eggs for Aziz and I for lunch, since my host mom had to leave soon. And I took some bread, buttered it and put it in the pan. My host mom saw this, and just kept laughing at me. She would look at it, say “Fatima!” and laugh, then talk to Aziz in Wolof. Aziz said it was just because she had never seen someone do that. Although, when he ate it, he insisted it was really good. Also, the other day I tried to help out by cutting up potatoes for fries, but I had to use a knife to skin them, which I’ve never done before; I’ve always had a potato pealer. So once I was done, I apparently left too much potato on the skin, which really bothered her. Aziz told her that he was the one that skinned them, so she just fussed at him in wolof, I think talking about how much the potatoes cost, and how wasteful it was. My thing is though, I was just trying to help so I don’t see why she was complaining. Or at least why she does it the way she does. She couldn’t just be like, “Oh, what are you doing with that bread?” or “Next time, try to take a little less potato off.” I mean, Senegalese culture is typically really blunt. They have no problem telling you if you’ve gained weight, or asking how much you paid for certain items, or really anything ever. So I guess there not into the niceties of being, “Oh yeah, that’s really, umm…interesting food.” Oh well.

Tabaski Dinner. Yum!

Apparently Tabaski is supposed to be three days, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday this year. But the main celebration was Saturday. Sunday, however, some of Aziz’s friends came over and ate with us, which was cool. Plus Bobby was over, since we had a presentation to work on for school. The point is, though, that we had delicious food again. So that was nice.

Bobby & Aziz

Saturday night, Aziz, Rodline, and I went out. We went to My Shop first. Aziz was debating before we left if he should wear his tabaski clothes or not. He went with not, but as soon as we got to My Shop, he was disappointed. There were so many people there, and so many people dressed in their tabaski clothes. Although, ironically, a lot of those people were drinking and/or smoking, which is kind of against the rules in Islam. Oh well, haha. But Rodline said she thinks My Shop was just the place to come to “See and be seen,” and that everyone was there, “looking fabulous.” Also, someone pulled up in a HUMMER! I HATE HUMMERS. They are ugly, gas-guzzling, and a prick car. Plus WHAT are you doing with a hummer on the streets of Dakar? They are outrageously huge. Watching the hummer try to park in the parking lot of My Shop, with all of the other cars, taxis, people, and motorcycles was kind of funny. Then they just sat there for a while, blaring their music. And they ended up picking up two girls. And all I have to say to that is: Really? I would never get with someone who had a hummer, let alone get with someone JUST BECAUSE they had a hummer. Now if they had a Lamborghini, that’s another story…



The three of us ended up going to some bars/clubs downtown. We tried to go to this place called Kings but it was 8,000 francs (over $16) to get in. So we went somewhere else. We went to this one bar that was kind of cool, but a little empty. Later we walked to Voyageur, this place that we’d been to once before. It was as hot as ever. But fun. Although, they were just playing Senegalese music. Then they started playing American music, but all remixed to techno beat. One thing I might hate more than hummers would be techno. But whatevs. It was fun, and then we finally went home at 4 or so in the morning. Although it was hard to find a taxi, since it was a holiday and not as many drivers were out, plus there were these Senegalese people that started following us, and trying to steal our taxi! And obviously, no taxi driver is going to come down in price, when he knows there is someone else just waiting to get a ride! But we finally found one for a good price, because it’s Senegal, and you can always find the price you want, eventually.

Me & Aziz

Tuesday night, I went out to the Ethiopian restaurant again, with Allison, Ryan, Rodline, Bobby, and Babacar. It was really delicious, and fun because we just sat around for a really long time and talked. Wednesday morning I went to a market with Allison & Ryan. I got a Baobab ring! Baobabs are senegalese trees, which are really famous. Senghor (the first president of Senegal) was sometimes called "Le Baobab". And Baobabs appear in "Le Petit Prince" which is a childrens french book, but a really fabulous piece of literature. I also got a book called "Les contes et mythes wolof" which is a book containing wolof stories (in wolof & accompanied by a french translation) which is really cool!



On a random note, I discovered that Aziz has never even heard of Wal-Mart! I knew there was a reason I liked this country! So Bobby and I told Aziz about it, but said if they ever tried to build one, he had to protest, since Wal Mart is basically the devil. Actually we told him that it sounds good, because everything is lower prices, but then so many people will lose their jobs. I love spreading propaganda. But it’s true. Wal-Mart is evil.



Aziz and I are such brother and sister. We always play games to annoy each other, and he does really bizarre things all the time and I tell him that he’s weird. Also, the other day we were both hanging out in my room, then I went to get a drink from the kitchen. While I was gone, he hid, and then jumped out at me when I came back, which kind of scared me. Then I attacked him. He does happen to be trained in Karate, or something like that, but of course would never use that on me. And I happen to be a little stronger than him, mostly because he is just so skinny. We joke around a lot. One time he said something to me and I pretended to get mad, so I got up as if to chase him, and he ran into his room going, “Ahh! No, no!” It’s really fun having a brother. And mostly he never actually makes me mad. But he is definitely weird.



On another random note, it’s getting pretty cold here. I think at night it might get all the way down to 50 degrees or so. It’s making it REALLY hard to take showers. Normally I don’t like showering, but when I was here earlier I showered every day since it was so hot. But now it’s colder, and the shower is cold, and it’s just terrible. Also, if someone in any other part of the house turns the water on, my water just stops. I haven’t decided if this is better or worse than at home when the water suddenly turns freezing cold or scalding hot. But at least at home I can yell, “AHH! WHO TURNED THE WATER ON? It’s so cold, turn your water off!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TURN IT OFF!!!” But I haven’t quite reached that level with my host family. So whenever this happens to me in Senegal, I just stare at the showerhead until the water comes back. lol.



And on my final random note, my shoes are starting to fail me. My one pair of flip-flops has holes in each sole. Then the other day when I was walking with my other pair, the part that sticks in between my toes ripped out. I have tried sewing it back, but I just don’t think it’s going to last that long. I have a third pair that I don’t like as much, plus my host brother has kind of stolen them. And killed A LOT of cockroaches with them. I could buy another pair, but it is really hard to find the size/style I like. I just keep telling my shoes, “You can make it!” They are the little shoes that can… inch alla.