Il faut bien manger"

I moved in with my Senegalese host family on Friday around 5 o clock. Those of us in the smaller (better!) hotel got a bus ride from CIEE with all our piles of stuff to the other hotel where our families planned to meet us. We stood around outside the hotel awkwardly, waiting for Courtney or Serigne to call our names. (Courtney is the Program Assistant, Serigne is the Resident Program Director - they're both fabulous). My host mother Mbegue came to get me in a taxi - on the way home, a herd of cows passed us on the road. It was bizarre and awesome. I must have looked surprised or interested, because she and the driver started laughing at me.

When we got here, there were a ton of people chillin in the front room, which was confusing. I don't remember everyone's name, and most of them don't even live here. They are mostly adults, the people who chill around here, and only four of us actually sleep here ever: Dad (Louis, I think), Mom (Mbegue), Bineta (older sister, 24), and me! Yesterday over lunch (dejeuner) my mom and her brother (whose name, I think, is something like Mas, or Moss) gave me a Senegalese name: Khady. Its pronounced CHX ah dee. The beginning is sort of a throat clearing, hair ball sound, if you follow.

Speaking of dejeuner, the food here is AWESOME. We eat "around the bowl" which means we all eat from the same plate or bowl, sometimes with our hand (never the left hand, only your right hand!) and sometimes with a fork or spoon. Not so much fruit, but lots of rice and fish. The famous Senegalese dish is called ceebu jenn, which means rice and fish in Wolof. My sister tried to show me how to make it yesterday, which was cool.

Eating around the bowl is super cool. Everyone sits on the floor, or on small stools (in my house, only the men sit on stools) and you eat from your assumed pie slice of the bowl. At each meal so far, my father (really, everyone) keeps repeating "Il faut bien manger" and pushing more fish or meat or other heavy food into my section of the plate. I haven't really figured out the most polite way to refuse and say that I really am so full that I might barf. Maybe if I gain some weight they'll understand.

My room is lovely, the mattress is about 5 inches of foam. I don't have a mosquito net yet, but I'm not too concerned -- there haven't really been any in the house so far. I'll get one this week most likely. The other new thing is the bathroom. There isn't a toilet, as such, mostly a hole in the floor, with two raised platforms for your feet. So far, hasn't been an issue, which I'm proud of. All the squatting is going to make my thighs super strong!

I spent all day yesterday following my family around the house, which mostly meant sitting in the salon watching TV and listening to other people speak Wolof super fast. Sometime I was included in conversation, which was super exciting. They showed me a photo album that a previous student sent them after she left. It was sort of like when Udo kept talking about his previous interns on the first day of my job last summer at Meeting Ground. I have a lot to live up to.

Tomorrow is my first day of classes, can't wait to have a real schedule! A bientot!!

In-Between Places

Things have been rather transitory in my world lately. Saturday and Sunday I spent over twenty hours transporting myself from Long Island to Dakar, 7 of which I spent wandering around the Madrid airport, dozing and people watching.

Travel is very strange. I don't feel incredibly far from home. Obviously I am no longer on Long Island right now: for one, its not cold even a little bit. Also there are baobab trees here. I think its just really difficult to conceptualize being on the other side of an ocean. Flying is more like going through a wormhole, with no idea how to mentally situate yourself on the other side.

And now once we arrived, the first week all 40 or so CIEE program students are living in two hotels very close to the university campus. Every day we have another helpful (albeit long) orientation session, in addition to Survival Wolof, a French placement exam (which was interesting), and exhilarating trips in taxis and car rapides. We move in with our host families on Saturday. Until then, I feel like I am in a surreal, transitory existence. Not quite in the program yet, but certainly no longer on vacation. I am living out of my suitcases, which is often frustrating.

I have to say, though, transitory places are incredibly exciting! Every day we learn so much and meet more people. I am definitely grateful for our brief orientation; it gives us time to get to know everyone else on the program before we are separated to our respective homes and neighborhoods. The students are placed in one of three neighborhoods in the general vicinity of the Suffolk University campus: Mermoz, Sacre-Coeur 3, and Ouakam. I will be living in Ouakam along with about 12 other students. Today I finally learned something about my host family! My father works at the airport (its very close to Ouakam), my mother stays home, and does not speak much French (mainly Wolof, which we are learning!). Her name is Mbengue, and the family name is Ndoye. My sister speaks French (as does my father), but I don't really know much else about her. Apparently lots of cousins are constantly staying in and hanging around the house, so there will always be someone around! Alain, the Housing Coordinator, says that Ouakam is a close community, and all the host families there are friends and live basically on the same block. Because Ouakam is further than walking distance from the university, we receive a transportation stipend from the program. I am so excited to regularly ride the car rapide and the bus! Car rapides are like mini-buses (but super decorated) that cost about 25 cents (50-100 CFA) to ride. They get very crowded, but not in a scary way, more of a communal way, or so it seems to me. The bus is slightly more expensive (150 CFA), bigger, and more regular, but not nearly as exciting.

We had our first Survival Wolof class yesterday morning, and it was so fantastic! So far, we've only learned the greetings, which are extensive and incredibly important here. I had some trouble with "Asalaamalekum, Malekum Salaam" at first because I am used to hearing a slightly different (slightly more Arabic?) pronunciation around campus (shout out to you Sarina K!). We try to practice our Wolof greetings when are are out and about, but I usually can't get past "Nanga def? Mangi fi rekk" which just means, basically: "How are you? I'm fine" and "Jerejef, Noko bok" (Thank you, you're welcome). Its certainly a start! And Senegalese so far have been very helpful and forgiving of my attempts to butcher both Wolof and French in conversation. Language skills, apparently also still in transit.

Once we move in with our host families, I'm confident this in-between feeling will pass, and I will be able to fully embrace the adjustment process!

Bienvenudos a Madrid?

I just want to say, I really love airplane food. Its all compact and efficient and disposable and fabulous. I think about this as I am sitting in the Madrid airport for another 6 or so hours, waiting for my connection to Dakar. The man at the Starbucks thinks I am a huge idiot because I cannot say fruit (or really anything) in Spanish, nor could I understand anything he said to me. He was very kind anyway: we had a laugh, it was lovely.

This makes people watching all the more exciting though, because I do not know what anyone is saying, for the most part. Its sort of like watching the soap operas on the spanish channels at home and inventing dialogue. For example, the lovely group of four young people sitting in front of me at Starbucks are quite likely discussing how best to build a time machine, or possible what they will do in Mexico.

I still have 3 hours until my flight to Dakar boards, so I am sitting in a funny little internet cafe, using up my 20 euros and charging my computer. Its right next to the elevator, so I have a great view of people running out, convinced they won't make their flight.

Airports are funny places. I wonder what it is like to work in an airport terminal store. All of the cashiers, assistants, people in important uniforms speak at least spanish and english. I can't wait to be among the functionally bilingual!

Adios Madrid until I say Bonjour and Salaamaleikum to Dakar!

Strider

All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither
Deep roots are not reached by the frost
From the ashes a fire shall be woken
A light from the shadows shall spring
Renewed shall be blade that was broken
The crownless again shall be king.

This is something I am thinking about as I prepare (or neglect to) for my departure. I would like to awake a fire from the ashes or a light from the shadows. Maybe I can be a king. Don't really know about any broken blades, but I'm open to new things. Will keep you posted.