Tonight, I'll be heading to the airport to catch a flight early Monday morning back to the US. I'm using today to visit the Ile de Goreé again with my parents and tie up whatever loose ends remain. Apologies for not writing much about ISP. I think I got to the point where I stopped seeing my time in Senegal as a trip to be documented, and started seeing it as my life. I stopped blogging and taking photos for that reason.
Thanks for the memories, Senegal. See you soon, USA.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Oh, right. I have a blog.
Well, so much for keeping up with this. I guess now that ISP is underway, I've gotten used to having evenings free and I haven't really had a specific desire to sit down and type out what I've been doing, especially since I'll have to do that again in a more formal fashion in about two weeks.
We celebrated Thanksgiving as a group at the girls' apartment in Point E, dining on chicken, mashed potatoes, stuffing, apple cake and ice cream. It was quite nice.
As for ISP, I don't feel that I have a lot to talk about. It's been going quite well, and it's looking like this next week is going to be my last official week of training at the foundry. Issa was nice enough to give me the option of coming back if there's anything I need to finish up, but it's looking like I'm more or less on track to get all of my work done by this coming Saturday.
So far, I've produced three sculptures of medium to small size. The first was a Talibe, one of the young religious disciples wandering the streets of Dakar, begging for alms, that I encounter on a daily basis. The next was a more abstract piece intended to represent tradition and modernity in Senegal. It's a baobab with small huts at its roots, and several hands among its branches grasping things such as books, airplanes, cell phones and car rapides. The third sculpture is a lion, which is the national symbol of Senegal. All of these sculptures are in the finishing stages, with just a little bit more grinding and polishing, followed by the patina, to be complete. I'm also working on a fourth as a gift for some friends (which is still in the wax model stage), followed by possibly a sixth for my homestay family as a parting gift if I have time. It's been a lot of fun, but it's been a struggle on a few occasions, particularly given my vocabulary of artistic terms and names for tools is pretty limited.
Originally, I was worried that my project was going to be horrifically expensive (almost $1000, with SIT only providing $600). However, I've found a couple of ways to cut down on expenses. Firstly, lunch is served at the foundry every day, which means that between that and my homestay, I'm not really paying for food anymore except on special occasions. Beyond that, whereas I used to take a taxi to and from the Village Des Arts every day, spending about $3 each way, I was pointed to a car rapide (a beat-up, colorfully painted old mini bus) that stops just a few hundred feet from the back entrance to the foundry. The cost? About 30 cents.
Also, Tabaski was yesterday. Where do I begin?
The festival of Tabaski is the biggest holiday of the year. Following the morning prayer at the mosque, the family gets together to slaughter sheep as a commemoration of God providing a ram to Abraham to sacrifice in place of Ishmael (Muslims believe that it was Ishmael that Abraham was asked to sacrifice rather than Isaac). Each man in the family with a job and the means to acquire a sheep (ranging from $80 to $2000) is expected to do so. These days, some women also buy sheep. For my family, this translated to a slaughtering of seven sheep in total. I was apprehensive, not having seen the killing of an animal before. However, I thought it would be a good experience to have.
Ultimately, it was, though it was easily the most disturbing thing I've ever seen. Each sheep had its throat slit and its blood spilled into a pit that we had dug outside the house. I watched the first slaughtering, though I started to get lightheaded during the second, particularly when the first started frantically kicking its legs as it bled to death on the sidewalk, so I stayed inside for the rest. Afterwards, the sheep were all brought into the garage and butchered, and cooked and eaten as they became available. I forced myself to watch the butchering, and I actually ended up eating lunch right next to the butchers.
I got some pictures. I don't think I'll post them on Facebook, as I'm not sure to what extent that might violate the terms of service.
What else? I had hot wings and a milkshake for lunch today and, my parents will be here in two weeks, which is crazy to think about. That's about it.
We celebrated Thanksgiving as a group at the girls' apartment in Point E, dining on chicken, mashed potatoes, stuffing, apple cake and ice cream. It was quite nice.
As for ISP, I don't feel that I have a lot to talk about. It's been going quite well, and it's looking like this next week is going to be my last official week of training at the foundry. Issa was nice enough to give me the option of coming back if there's anything I need to finish up, but it's looking like I'm more or less on track to get all of my work done by this coming Saturday.
So far, I've produced three sculptures of medium to small size. The first was a Talibe, one of the young religious disciples wandering the streets of Dakar, begging for alms, that I encounter on a daily basis. The next was a more abstract piece intended to represent tradition and modernity in Senegal. It's a baobab with small huts at its roots, and several hands among its branches grasping things such as books, airplanes, cell phones and car rapides. The third sculpture is a lion, which is the national symbol of Senegal. All of these sculptures are in the finishing stages, with just a little bit more grinding and polishing, followed by the patina, to be complete. I'm also working on a fourth as a gift for some friends (which is still in the wax model stage), followed by possibly a sixth for my homestay family as a parting gift if I have time. It's been a lot of fun, but it's been a struggle on a few occasions, particularly given my vocabulary of artistic terms and names for tools is pretty limited.
Originally, I was worried that my project was going to be horrifically expensive (almost $1000, with SIT only providing $600). However, I've found a couple of ways to cut down on expenses. Firstly, lunch is served at the foundry every day, which means that between that and my homestay, I'm not really paying for food anymore except on special occasions. Beyond that, whereas I used to take a taxi to and from the Village Des Arts every day, spending about $3 each way, I was pointed to a car rapide (a beat-up, colorfully painted old mini bus) that stops just a few hundred feet from the back entrance to the foundry. The cost? About 30 cents.
Also, Tabaski was yesterday. Where do I begin?
The festival of Tabaski is the biggest holiday of the year. Following the morning prayer at the mosque, the family gets together to slaughter sheep as a commemoration of God providing a ram to Abraham to sacrifice in place of Ishmael (Muslims believe that it was Ishmael that Abraham was asked to sacrifice rather than Isaac). Each man in the family with a job and the means to acquire a sheep (ranging from $80 to $2000) is expected to do so. These days, some women also buy sheep. For my family, this translated to a slaughtering of seven sheep in total. I was apprehensive, not having seen the killing of an animal before. However, I thought it would be a good experience to have.
Ultimately, it was, though it was easily the most disturbing thing I've ever seen. Each sheep had its throat slit and its blood spilled into a pit that we had dug outside the house. I watched the first slaughtering, though I started to get lightheaded during the second, particularly when the first started frantically kicking its legs as it bled to death on the sidewalk, so I stayed inside for the rest. Afterwards, the sheep were all brought into the garage and butchered, and cooked and eaten as they became available. I forced myself to watch the butchering, and I actually ended up eating lunch right next to the butchers.
I got some pictures. I don't think I'll post them on Facebook, as I'm not sure to what extent that might violate the terms of service.
What else? I had hot wings and a milkshake for lunch today and, my parents will be here in two weeks, which is crazy to think about. That's about it.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
America Night and ISP
Yesterday, we celebrated America night, and I think it's safe to say that it was a success. Since we had Friday afternoon off, we headed to the supermarket (Casino) to pick up our supplies. I had signed up to make macaroni and cheese, but I ended up going on a bit of a shopping spree, picking up tabasco sauce, brownies, frosted flakes, Doritos and just about anything else American I could get my hands on. I ended up spending upwards of $60, but it was definitely worth it. Afterwards, we headed back to school to cook everything up and celebrate.
Between all the group members, we had macaroni and cheese (myself), baked beans (Milo), grilled cheese (Elizabeth), pizza bread (A'Daris), peanut butter cookies (Karen), pineapple upside-down cake (Megan), marinated chicken (Sonya and Alicia), fresh vegetables (Jeannie) and some good ol' fashioned American soda (Allie). After eating, we watched a number of Pixar short films followed by one of my favorite films of all time, Casablanca. Despite the fact that I suffered from some pretty serious indigestion the next morning, I was very happy.
ISP starts Tuesday, and I've settled definitively on bronze sculpture. In some ways, it sort of feels like a cop-out compared to some of the more "serious" research that other people are doing, but I'm thinking I'll be able to get art credit for it (Inshalla), which will be nice. I'll be working with Issa Diop, a well-known Senegalese sculptor, and one of the more interesting people I've met in a long time (he lived in LA for five crazy \years in the 1970s... But that's a story best saved for a later post).
We also took our second language placement tests this morning. In French, I scored advanced-mid, which is one level above what I scored at the beginning of the program. In Wolof, I scored intermediate mid, which I don't feel that I deserved, as I really struggled through the test, largely due to my inadequate vocabulary (didn't know the words for beach, country, etc.). I talked myself into corners a couple of times, forcing myself to use the third person plural future pronouns that I didn't really remember. I guess I got points for effort or something.
Finally, I feel it bears mentioning some of the crazy things that have been going on in my homestay lately. Aida, the three-year-old daughter of my host brother, has been toeing the line between adorable and demon-spawn quite well the past couple of weeks. She's recently taking to critiquing everything I do, and she seems to only speak in the negative, even when I'm in the midst of doing the very thing she's referring to (e.g. (while pointing at my shoes) you don't have shoes! (while I'm eating chicken) you don't eat chicken! you don't know me! etc.).
Most recently, I overheard a discussion in Wolof between my brother and my mom about Gaspard, the disgusting old cat that belongs to our family (who I affectionately dubbed Mickey Rourke cat based on his appearance). Based on the very little that I understood, I gathered that Gaspard might be on his last legs. When I asked Aida what had happened to Gaspard, she replied (in French)"I put him in a bag and threw him in the trash because he couldn't walk anymore."
I didn't really know whether to believe this or not, but I found out the next day that although this was an exaggeration, Gaspard had indeed been sent away for good. On a similar note, my family has spent the last few nights trying to capture another one of the cats in the house and put her in a bag. The reason they gave for doing this was that they were going to "put her up for adoption," though I'm not sure to what extent this is a euphemism. So far, the cat has comically eluded capture.
Between all the group members, we had macaroni and cheese (myself), baked beans (Milo), grilled cheese (Elizabeth), pizza bread (A'Daris), peanut butter cookies (Karen), pineapple upside-down cake (Megan), marinated chicken (Sonya and Alicia), fresh vegetables (Jeannie) and some good ol' fashioned American soda (Allie). After eating, we watched a number of Pixar short films followed by one of my favorite films of all time, Casablanca. Despite the fact that I suffered from some pretty serious indigestion the next morning, I was very happy.
ISP starts Tuesday, and I've settled definitively on bronze sculpture. In some ways, it sort of feels like a cop-out compared to some of the more "serious" research that other people are doing, but I'm thinking I'll be able to get art credit for it (Inshalla), which will be nice. I'll be working with Issa Diop, a well-known Senegalese sculptor, and one of the more interesting people I've met in a long time (he lived in LA for five crazy \years in the 1970s... But that's a story best saved for a later post).
We also took our second language placement tests this morning. In French, I scored advanced-mid, which is one level above what I scored at the beginning of the program. In Wolof, I scored intermediate mid, which I don't feel that I deserved, as I really struggled through the test, largely due to my inadequate vocabulary (didn't know the words for beach, country, etc.). I talked myself into corners a couple of times, forcing myself to use the third person plural future pronouns that I didn't really remember. I guess I got points for effort or something.
Finally, I feel it bears mentioning some of the crazy things that have been going on in my homestay lately. Aida, the three-year-old daughter of my host brother, has been toeing the line between adorable and demon-spawn quite well the past couple of weeks. She's recently taking to critiquing everything I do, and she seems to only speak in the negative, even when I'm in the midst of doing the very thing she's referring to (e.g. (while pointing at my shoes) you don't have shoes! (while I'm eating chicken) you don't eat chicken! you don't know me! etc.).
Most recently, I overheard a discussion in Wolof between my brother and my mom about Gaspard, the disgusting old cat that belongs to our family (who I affectionately dubbed Mickey Rourke cat based on his appearance). Based on the very little that I understood, I gathered that Gaspard might be on his last legs. When I asked Aida what had happened to Gaspard, she replied (in French)"I put him in a bag and threw him in the trash because he couldn't walk anymore."
I didn't really know whether to believe this or not, but I found out the next day that although this was an exaggeration, Gaspard had indeed been sent away for good. On a similar note, my family has spent the last few nights trying to capture another one of the cats in the house and put her in a bag. The reason they gave for doing this was that they were going to "put her up for adoption," though I'm not sure to what extent this is a euphemism. So far, the cat has comically eluded capture.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Back from Kedougou, approaching ISP
We got back from Kedougou last night, and I ended up going straight to sleep after dinner due to the 3 hours of sleep I got the night before.
It's difficult to summarize my experience in Kedougou, since I feel like I did so much in the short time I was there, but I'll give it a shot.
The trip to Kedougou took about 12 hours over both paved and unpaved roads. I was dumb enough to pick the back of the bus, so I got to experience every bump and pothole to its fullest. Fortunately, there was air conditioning, so it was more comfortable than it could have been. I tried to use the time to do some reading--I checked out a copy of Walden from Dr. Drame--But that made me a little carsick. I spent some time thinking about what I might do for my Independent Study Project, but didn't really reach any final decisions.
Once we got to Kedougou, we lodged up in a sort of hotel comprised of two-person air conditioned huts.
On our first full day (Saturday), we took a hike as a group up to Etchwar, the Bedik village where Elizabeth and I would be staying for our village homestay. Upon arriving at the top, I was pleased to find that all of my unreasonable hopes and expectations were fulfilled. We climbed up some rocks to get a view of the surrounding landscape, and it was breathtaking. I felt very lucky.
The next day, we took a two hour drive in four-by-fours over what I hesitate to even call roads in order to get to a waterfall. The trip was unpleasant, but ended up being completely worth it in the end. The waterfall was quite a sight--it was easily 100 feet tall, cascading over very geometric rocks into a clear pool at the bottom. Best of all, the water was frigid, and I was glad to be truly cold for the first time in nearly two months.
On Monday, we headed out in groups for our village stays. I got put with the Keita Family, and Elizabeth got put with the Camara family. These were the only two families in the village, which consists of about 50 people in total. Rather than recount every single detail, I'll hit some of the highlights:
We spent most of every day in the fields atop the mountain, doing a variety of jobs including cultivating peanuts and other crops and separating peanuts from their stems. The head of my family, Samuel, would go hunting during the day, and on the eve of my departure, he shot a meerkat (I think) that we ate for dinner.
We got to see both the sunrise and sunset from the top of the rocks that we had climbed up earlier as a group, and it was easily the most spectacular thing I've seen since coming here, possibly in all my life. On one trip up, there was a four to five foot python sitting on the path that Bernard, my host father, killed without hesitation.
On Tuesday, Bernard took me down to Indar, the village below where Lisa and Sonya were staying, in order to "taste" some palm wine. What I didn't realize was that tasting actually meant drinking about a liter and a half to two liters. It didn't taste particularly great, but it got the job done (and apparently only takes a couple of hours to ferment). While I was still pretty under the influence, we hiked back up to Etchwar, which was surprisingly easier.
The next day, we headed back down to have a look at the chapel where the two villages attend church (they're mostly catholic). This visit unexpectedly included more palm wine, and I ended up taking another inebriated hike back up to the top.
Overall, I loved the experience that I had with the Bediks. Everything about it was different from what I've experienced in Senegal thus far: Different religion, different social habits, different food, different music. It was incredibly refreshing, and I was sad to leave.
Friday morning, following our return to our "hotel" in Kedougou, we took a rather difficult hike up to Iwol, another Bedik village where we saw what is alleged to be the largest baobab in the world (in terms of trunk circumference).
That afternoon, a series of events transpired (including me cutting my head open one one of the bamboo poles coming off of the roof of our hut) that lead to me feeling as bad as I've felt since coming to Senegal. For the first time, I really started to miss my family and everything back home, and I would have loved nothing more than to have gotten on a plane and left. The bus ride back to Dakar was miserable, and neither the Kora that I bought nor the bronze sculptures I did were back at SIT like I thought they'd be when we returned.
I'm currently trying to work my way out of this slump.
Also, our ISP proposals are due at the end of this week, and I haven't decided on a topic. I'm so far behind the rest of the group. I feel unproductive and incompetent.
We're planning on having America night as a group sometime this week, which means American movies and food. It couldn't have come at a better time.
It's difficult to summarize my experience in Kedougou, since I feel like I did so much in the short time I was there, but I'll give it a shot.
The trip to Kedougou took about 12 hours over both paved and unpaved roads. I was dumb enough to pick the back of the bus, so I got to experience every bump and pothole to its fullest. Fortunately, there was air conditioning, so it was more comfortable than it could have been. I tried to use the time to do some reading--I checked out a copy of Walden from Dr. Drame--But that made me a little carsick. I spent some time thinking about what I might do for my Independent Study Project, but didn't really reach any final decisions.
Once we got to Kedougou, we lodged up in a sort of hotel comprised of two-person air conditioned huts.
On our first full day (Saturday), we took a hike as a group up to Etchwar, the Bedik village where Elizabeth and I would be staying for our village homestay. Upon arriving at the top, I was pleased to find that all of my unreasonable hopes and expectations were fulfilled. We climbed up some rocks to get a view of the surrounding landscape, and it was breathtaking. I felt very lucky.
The next day, we took a two hour drive in four-by-fours over what I hesitate to even call roads in order to get to a waterfall. The trip was unpleasant, but ended up being completely worth it in the end. The waterfall was quite a sight--it was easily 100 feet tall, cascading over very geometric rocks into a clear pool at the bottom. Best of all, the water was frigid, and I was glad to be truly cold for the first time in nearly two months.
On Monday, we headed out in groups for our village stays. I got put with the Keita Family, and Elizabeth got put with the Camara family. These were the only two families in the village, which consists of about 50 people in total. Rather than recount every single detail, I'll hit some of the highlights:
We spent most of every day in the fields atop the mountain, doing a variety of jobs including cultivating peanuts and other crops and separating peanuts from their stems. The head of my family, Samuel, would go hunting during the day, and on the eve of my departure, he shot a meerkat (I think) that we ate for dinner.
We got to see both the sunrise and sunset from the top of the rocks that we had climbed up earlier as a group, and it was easily the most spectacular thing I've seen since coming here, possibly in all my life. On one trip up, there was a four to five foot python sitting on the path that Bernard, my host father, killed without hesitation.
On Tuesday, Bernard took me down to Indar, the village below where Lisa and Sonya were staying, in order to "taste" some palm wine. What I didn't realize was that tasting actually meant drinking about a liter and a half to two liters. It didn't taste particularly great, but it got the job done (and apparently only takes a couple of hours to ferment). While I was still pretty under the influence, we hiked back up to Etchwar, which was surprisingly easier.
The next day, we headed back down to have a look at the chapel where the two villages attend church (they're mostly catholic). This visit unexpectedly included more palm wine, and I ended up taking another inebriated hike back up to the top.
Overall, I loved the experience that I had with the Bediks. Everything about it was different from what I've experienced in Senegal thus far: Different religion, different social habits, different food, different music. It was incredibly refreshing, and I was sad to leave.
Friday morning, following our return to our "hotel" in Kedougou, we took a rather difficult hike up to Iwol, another Bedik village where we saw what is alleged to be the largest baobab in the world (in terms of trunk circumference).
That afternoon, a series of events transpired (including me cutting my head open one one of the bamboo poles coming off of the roof of our hut) that lead to me feeling as bad as I've felt since coming to Senegal. For the first time, I really started to miss my family and everything back home, and I would have loved nothing more than to have gotten on a plane and left. The bus ride back to Dakar was miserable, and neither the Kora that I bought nor the bronze sculptures I did were back at SIT like I thought they'd be when we returned.
I'm currently trying to work my way out of this slump.
Also, our ISP proposals are due at the end of this week, and I haven't decided on a topic. I'm so far behind the rest of the group. I feel unproductive and incompetent.
We're planning on having America night as a group sometime this week, which means American movies and food. It couldn't have come at a better time.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Bronze Sculpture and preparations for Kedougou!
Today marked the last day of our bronze sculpture workshop at the Village Des Arts. The process of making a bronze sculpture is really quite fascinating. First, the artist makes a model out of hot beeswax, sculpting it as it cools and melting additional pieces on (it's like playing with clay that doesn't dry out your hands). Next, additional pieces of wax are added to the model to allow the bronze to flow through in the pouring phase. Then the model is dipped in a mixture of quick-dry plaster and sifted dirt, and a mold is formed around each piece. After these are dry (about 30 minutes), they are placed in the fire overnight so the wax can drip out. The next day, the bronze is prepared. Essentially, the artists had set up a blast furnace in which they melted down scrap faucets, knobs, and anything bronze they could get their hands on. The fire burned green, and watching the molten metal being poured into the molds was one of the cooler things I've seen since coming here.
Our pieces aren't quite ready yet, as the imperfections and extraneous pieces need to be ground off, but we'll have them back after we return from Kedougou. I made an attaya glass, a bracelet ($10 says I never wear it) and a Kora player that I'm pretty proud of.
We also got our clothes back from the tailor, and I'm about as happy with the results as I could possibly be. A custom-tailored shirt for $12? Yes, indeed. Pictures to come later. Maybe in the form of a Picasa web album. I don't know.
We leave bright and early tomorrow for Kedougou, and I'm super excited to do some hiking, see some waterfalls and have another awesome village experience. I got placed with Elizabeth in the village of Etchwar, which sits atop a mountain. The people living there are of the Badik ethnic minority, and they're Christian animists, which should be really interesting to see. I've been told to expect a lot of palm wine.
Also, as I've been told that Kedougou and the surrounding regions are incredibly hot, I decided to shave off my beard. It's so much cooler already.
I get back to the Dakar area on the 7th, and I won't be posting again until then.
And that post was really disorganized, and written very haphazardly.
Our pieces aren't quite ready yet, as the imperfections and extraneous pieces need to be ground off, but we'll have them back after we return from Kedougou. I made an attaya glass, a bracelet ($10 says I never wear it) and a Kora player that I'm pretty proud of.
We also got our clothes back from the tailor, and I'm about as happy with the results as I could possibly be. A custom-tailored shirt for $12? Yes, indeed. Pictures to come later. Maybe in the form of a Picasa web album. I don't know.
We leave bright and early tomorrow for Kedougou, and I'm super excited to do some hiking, see some waterfalls and have another awesome village experience. I got placed with Elizabeth in the village of Etchwar, which sits atop a mountain. The people living there are of the Badik ethnic minority, and they're Christian animists, which should be really interesting to see. I've been told to expect a lot of palm wine.
Also, as I've been told that Kedougou and the surrounding regions are incredibly hot, I decided to shave off my beard. It's so much cooler already.
I get back to the Dakar area on the 7th, and I won't be posting again until then.
And that post was really disorganized, and written very haphazardly.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Ups and downs
Since my last post, a French Canadian, Jean-Philippe, has started renting a room with my homestay family. He's currently visiting Dakar as a tourist, and looking at possibly getting a job here long-term. It's been nice having him around for a number of reasons, aside from some additional company. Firstly, he's much more talkative than I am, so it's really forced me to step up my level of interaction with my family. Secondly, he's allowed me to realize just how much progress I've made since coming here. I often don't feel like I've accomplished much, but the reality of the matter is that I've simply been progressing so gradually that I haven't noticed. The fact that he comes to me from time to time for advice on Wolof, places to go in Dakar, cultural differences and more has helped me realize the knowledge I've gained in the past 6 weeks.
There was also a somewhat strange moment when I showed him a photo of my family, and pointing out Ryan, told him that this was my older brother, who was 27. He seemed puzzled, asking for clarification: "He's 27, and he's older than you?"
When I told him I was 20, he was shocked. I'm fine with looking a few years older than my age, but this is getting ridiculous.
Anyway, kora lessons were this week, and it's been one of the more enjoyable parts of my time here thus far. The instrument itself is made from half of a large calabash covered in rawhide affixed with upholstery tacks. There are 21 strings, broken into a set of 10 on the left side and 11 on the right, which are attached to the neck by leather bands that are moved up and down to tune. The thumb and index finger of each hand are used to pluck strings individually or in groups. The instrument itself is tuned to the key of F major.
From what I understand, Edouard, our instructor, is one of the best Kora players in the world. He plays concerts everywhere from South Africa to Denmark to Asia. Long story short, I enjoyed the lessons so much that I ended up buying a Kora from him. I'll be getting it in about a week.
Earlier today, I was in a bit of a slump. I felt like I hadn't really accomplished as much as I'd liked to have by this point in the program in many respects. I didn't feel like I knew enough Wolof, I didn't feel like I knew my way around the city as well as I should, and I didn't feel ready to be turning in a rough draft of my ISP proposal a week from today.
However, things started looking up when we had our last Kora lesson. Though the melody we focused on this time around was a bit harder than the previous two, I still enjoyed it immensely. After school, I went back home to have one of the better evenings I've had with my host family. In short, I'm finally starting to feel at ease and I've been able to insert myself more frequently into their conversations. Over dinner this evening, my brother proposed a particular legal conundrum for my cousin, who's studying law:
A man goes into the city to buy a sheep for Tabaski (the big festival taking place on November 28th). The man discusses with a sheep vendor and the two come to an agreement on a reasonable price. At the moment that the money is being exchanged, the sheep eats the buyer's banknote. Whose property is the sheep?
The discussion became incredibly heated and spanned multiple other similar scenarios. I mostly sat listening and thinking, but eventually came to a decision and shared my conclusion:
In this situation, the two men should exchange information, and wait one day and one night. If the sheep didn't chew too much, the seller will get the banknote back, at which point he can give the sheep to the buyer.
Tomorrow, we'll be going to the tailor to get garments made from the fabrics that we bought at the market last week. I'm pretty excited for getting some awesome shirts tailored on the cheap.
There was also a somewhat strange moment when I showed him a photo of my family, and pointing out Ryan, told him that this was my older brother, who was 27. He seemed puzzled, asking for clarification: "He's 27, and he's older than you?"
When I told him I was 20, he was shocked. I'm fine with looking a few years older than my age, but this is getting ridiculous.
Anyway, kora lessons were this week, and it's been one of the more enjoyable parts of my time here thus far. The instrument itself is made from half of a large calabash covered in rawhide affixed with upholstery tacks. There are 21 strings, broken into a set of 10 on the left side and 11 on the right, which are attached to the neck by leather bands that are moved up and down to tune. The thumb and index finger of each hand are used to pluck strings individually or in groups. The instrument itself is tuned to the key of F major.
From what I understand, Edouard, our instructor, is one of the best Kora players in the world. He plays concerts everywhere from South Africa to Denmark to Asia. Long story short, I enjoyed the lessons so much that I ended up buying a Kora from him. I'll be getting it in about a week.
Earlier today, I was in a bit of a slump. I felt like I hadn't really accomplished as much as I'd liked to have by this point in the program in many respects. I didn't feel like I knew enough Wolof, I didn't feel like I knew my way around the city as well as I should, and I didn't feel ready to be turning in a rough draft of my ISP proposal a week from today.
However, things started looking up when we had our last Kora lesson. Though the melody we focused on this time around was a bit harder than the previous two, I still enjoyed it immensely. After school, I went back home to have one of the better evenings I've had with my host family. In short, I'm finally starting to feel at ease and I've been able to insert myself more frequently into their conversations. Over dinner this evening, my brother proposed a particular legal conundrum for my cousin, who's studying law:
A man goes into the city to buy a sheep for Tabaski (the big festival taking place on November 28th). The man discusses with a sheep vendor and the two come to an agreement on a reasonable price. At the moment that the money is being exchanged, the sheep eats the buyer's banknote. Whose property is the sheep?
The discussion became incredibly heated and spanned multiple other similar scenarios. I mostly sat listening and thinking, but eventually came to a decision and shared my conclusion:
In this situation, the two men should exchange information, and wait one day and one night. If the sheep didn't chew too much, the seller will get the banknote back, at which point he can give the sheep to the buyer.
Tomorrow, we'll be going to the tailor to get garments made from the fabrics that we bought at the market last week. I'm pretty excited for getting some awesome shirts tailored on the cheap.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
What's been up
It's been a fairly quiet week since coming back to Dakar. It turns out there's an ex-pat ultimate Frisbee group that gets together every Thursday, so I'm going to try to make it to that this week now that I have some athletic footwear (and theoretically some free time).
Last night, we decided to take our first venture into Dakar's nightlife. Coincidentally, it also poured rain for the first time this month. We ate dinner at Just4U, a restaurant/bar/club that's supposed to be "the place to go" for live music in Dakar. Around 10:30 or so, a guy started playing some mellow stuff on guitar. I wanted to stick around, but everybody else had other plans in mind. We ended up going to a place called Pharaoh's Beach (no cover charge!), which was tucked behind the artisan market that Milo and I got ripped off at earlier when doing our study on recycled art. After crossing flooded alleyways on makeshift bridges (milk crates and wooden planks), we managed to make our way into the club. It was actually quite a cool place--We were seated out on a pier overlooking the ocean. It wasn't until around 1:30 that people actually started showing up and dancing, and by the time I left (about 2:30), things were really only starting to get underway. Basically, people party really late in this city. It fascinates me that people can sleep in so late the following day, too, given the intense heat that starts once the sun comes up.
Also, the gender ratio in that club was hilariously disproportionate. There were probably 10 men to every woman.
Tomorrow, we start our music and dance workshops. I've elected to learn Kora, a harp-like instrument. I'm really looking forward to it.
Last night, we decided to take our first venture into Dakar's nightlife. Coincidentally, it also poured rain for the first time this month. We ate dinner at Just4U, a restaurant/bar/club that's supposed to be "the place to go" for live music in Dakar. Around 10:30 or so, a guy started playing some mellow stuff on guitar. I wanted to stick around, but everybody else had other plans in mind. We ended up going to a place called Pharaoh's Beach (no cover charge!), which was tucked behind the artisan market that Milo and I got ripped off at earlier when doing our study on recycled art. After crossing flooded alleyways on makeshift bridges (milk crates and wooden planks), we managed to make our way into the club. It was actually quite a cool place--We were seated out on a pier overlooking the ocean. It wasn't until around 1:30 that people actually started showing up and dancing, and by the time I left (about 2:30), things were really only starting to get underway. Basically, people party really late in this city. It fascinates me that people can sleep in so late the following day, too, given the intense heat that starts once the sun comes up.
Also, the gender ratio in that club was hilariously disproportionate. There were probably 10 men to every woman.
Tomorrow, we start our music and dance workshops. I've elected to learn Kora, a harp-like instrument. I'm really looking forward to it.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
About Saint Louis...
Now that I feel like typing again, I'll briefly discuss some of what went on in Saint Louis, as well as some additional information about the village.
A few things I forgot to mention about the village-
First, my host brother Masila, who was able to help because he spoke French, worked as a Wolof literacy teacher for Tostan, an NGO with various branches around Senegal, including one in Thies. I'm pretty sure I ran into five or six other people in the village of five households named Tala Mbaye. Not speaking much Wolof, it was hard for me to understand exactly in what way these people were related to my immediate family.
The compound I was in was surrounded by a reed fence, though the buildings themselves, save for the kitchen, were all cinder block and cement. If I'm not mistaken, these new buildings were constructed within the last two or three years. My room was a separate cinder block building with a corrugated metal roof that easily got 10 to 15 degrees warmer during the day than it was outside. Outside the village was a beautiful field where the villagers grew bisaap and several other vegetables and grains.
The toilet was really not much more than a hole in the ground inside a cement stall, but at least it had a door. A large wasp and a colony of red ants had made their home in it, but after the first day I didn't really care that much. The shower next door was less a shower and more a stall with a hole to the outside for drainage. Shower water had to be taken from the central pump and placed into a bucket.
The village itself was really a welcome respite from the noise and pollution of Dakar. I woke up with a centipede in my bed one morning, but that didn't really bother me as much as I expected it to.
Following our village stay, we spent the night in Thies in a hotel, where we got real showers and some decent food. The next day, we left for the former colonial capital of Saint Louis, which proved to be an incredible contrast of positive and negative experiences.
We holed up in the Hotel Sindone, which was an incredible, high-class little hotel along the waterside. In addition to the fact that all the rooms had air conditioning (which proved to be a life saver when the outside temperature peaked at over 100 degrees) and hot water, there was also a bar and restaurant attached that served some amazing food. We didn't do much the first night other than rest up.
The next day, we had a lecture from Louis Camara, a famous writer from Saint Louis who talked about the history of literature in the city and the important role that Saint Louis had played in the development of Senegalese literature. Following the lecture, we split off into groups to study particular historical locations in the city. Sonya and I chose to study the Khayar Mbengue elementary school, which was originally a French school founded with the purpose of educating the sons of Senegalese chiefs in French in order for them to act as interpreters and bearers of French culture. The architecture of the school was particularly stunning, but it was also interesting to learn about the role that education played as a more subversive method of control. Overall, Sonya and I were surprised by how many people we encountered that held generally positive attitudes toward the French and towards colonialism.
The same day, we visited a museum next to the hotel, which turned out to be less of a museum and more of an incredibly posh guest house. We were all baffled when the owner invited us back to swim in the pools there that night. He even bought us drinks. I can safely say it was the happiest that a lot of us had been in a long time.
Also, there were thousands of bats that lived in and around the governor's palace, and it was pretty crazy to see them take off at night. Some of them would swoop down and pick insects out of the pool.
On Saturday night, a few of us went out to see an afro-jazz concert at a nearby bar/restaurant, which was really great. There was one man in particular who it seemed had had too much to drink and was making liberal use of the dance floor. Following this concert, we were invited by some people we had met the previous day to a club for an international sort of dance party. I left with a few others before things really got underway, but it was interesting seeing how people there approached dancing. Whereas club dancing in the US is taken pretty seriously, there didn't seem to be a lot of people getting too into it. I did, however, get to see the opportunity to see Senegalese men dance for the first time (officially, dancing is forbidden for men by Islam). It was weird.
I can't really talk about Saint Louis without mentioning just how touristy the place was. Street vendors were everywhere selling mass-produced "art"--Masks, elephants, drums, paintings, necklaces, bracelets, etc. To these people, being white meant being rich, and they wouldn't take no for an answer. I eventually ran out of money part way through our stay in Saint Louis due to most of the ATMs being out of commission. When people tried to sell me things and I told them I didn't have money, they universally never believed me. There were some people on the beach who laughed when I initially told them I didn't have money, and then seemed borderline offended when they found out it was true. It got to be very frustrating, and I came close to snapping at people a few times.
One of the worst offenders was a man who called himself Joe the African. He called me into his little shop "just to look," which universally never actually means that. He tried to get me to buy some necklaces, to which I replied I didn't want any. He then suggested I get some for my girlfriend. When I said I didn't have one, he made reference to the large number of girls in the group I was with and then proceeded, in the most vulgar way imaginable, to ask if I was a heterosexual. He then went on to describe his sexual exploits with his four wives. Needless to say, I didn't buy anything from him.
Overall, though, Saint Louis was very pleasant, and I wasn't crazy about coming back to Dakar. Unfortunately, it seems that I didn't take a single picture there. I don't really know what I was thinking. I'll try to get some from other people on the trip.
A few things I forgot to mention about the village-
First, my host brother Masila, who was able to help because he spoke French, worked as a Wolof literacy teacher for Tostan, an NGO with various branches around Senegal, including one in Thies. I'm pretty sure I ran into five or six other people in the village of five households named Tala Mbaye. Not speaking much Wolof, it was hard for me to understand exactly in what way these people were related to my immediate family.
The compound I was in was surrounded by a reed fence, though the buildings themselves, save for the kitchen, were all cinder block and cement. If I'm not mistaken, these new buildings were constructed within the last two or three years. My room was a separate cinder block building with a corrugated metal roof that easily got 10 to 15 degrees warmer during the day than it was outside. Outside the village was a beautiful field where the villagers grew bisaap and several other vegetables and grains.
The toilet was really not much more than a hole in the ground inside a cement stall, but at least it had a door. A large wasp and a colony of red ants had made their home in it, but after the first day I didn't really care that much. The shower next door was less a shower and more a stall with a hole to the outside for drainage. Shower water had to be taken from the central pump and placed into a bucket.
The village itself was really a welcome respite from the noise and pollution of Dakar. I woke up with a centipede in my bed one morning, but that didn't really bother me as much as I expected it to.
Following our village stay, we spent the night in Thies in a hotel, where we got real showers and some decent food. The next day, we left for the former colonial capital of Saint Louis, which proved to be an incredible contrast of positive and negative experiences.
We holed up in the Hotel Sindone, which was an incredible, high-class little hotel along the waterside. In addition to the fact that all the rooms had air conditioning (which proved to be a life saver when the outside temperature peaked at over 100 degrees) and hot water, there was also a bar and restaurant attached that served some amazing food. We didn't do much the first night other than rest up.
The next day, we had a lecture from Louis Camara, a famous writer from Saint Louis who talked about the history of literature in the city and the important role that Saint Louis had played in the development of Senegalese literature. Following the lecture, we split off into groups to study particular historical locations in the city. Sonya and I chose to study the Khayar Mbengue elementary school, which was originally a French school founded with the purpose of educating the sons of Senegalese chiefs in French in order for them to act as interpreters and bearers of French culture. The architecture of the school was particularly stunning, but it was also interesting to learn about the role that education played as a more subversive method of control. Overall, Sonya and I were surprised by how many people we encountered that held generally positive attitudes toward the French and towards colonialism.
The same day, we visited a museum next to the hotel, which turned out to be less of a museum and more of an incredibly posh guest house. We were all baffled when the owner invited us back to swim in the pools there that night. He even bought us drinks. I can safely say it was the happiest that a lot of us had been in a long time.
Also, there were thousands of bats that lived in and around the governor's palace, and it was pretty crazy to see them take off at night. Some of them would swoop down and pick insects out of the pool.
On Saturday night, a few of us went out to see an afro-jazz concert at a nearby bar/restaurant, which was really great. There was one man in particular who it seemed had had too much to drink and was making liberal use of the dance floor. Following this concert, we were invited by some people we had met the previous day to a club for an international sort of dance party. I left with a few others before things really got underway, but it was interesting seeing how people there approached dancing. Whereas club dancing in the US is taken pretty seriously, there didn't seem to be a lot of people getting too into it. I did, however, get to see the opportunity to see Senegalese men dance for the first time (officially, dancing is forbidden for men by Islam). It was weird.
I can't really talk about Saint Louis without mentioning just how touristy the place was. Street vendors were everywhere selling mass-produced "art"--Masks, elephants, drums, paintings, necklaces, bracelets, etc. To these people, being white meant being rich, and they wouldn't take no for an answer. I eventually ran out of money part way through our stay in Saint Louis due to most of the ATMs being out of commission. When people tried to sell me things and I told them I didn't have money, they universally never believed me. There were some people on the beach who laughed when I initially told them I didn't have money, and then seemed borderline offended when they found out it was true. It got to be very frustrating, and I came close to snapping at people a few times.
One of the worst offenders was a man who called himself Joe the African. He called me into his little shop "just to look," which universally never actually means that. He tried to get me to buy some necklaces, to which I replied I didn't want any. He then suggested I get some for my girlfriend. When I said I didn't have one, he made reference to the large number of girls in the group I was with and then proceeded, in the most vulgar way imaginable, to ask if I was a heterosexual. He then went on to describe his sexual exploits with his four wives. Needless to say, I didn't buy anything from him.
Overall, though, Saint Louis was very pleasant, and I wasn't crazy about coming back to Dakar. Unfortunately, it seems that I didn't take a single picture there. I don't really know what I was thinking. I'll try to get some from other people on the trip.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Many many updates
It's been a good long while since my last post, as I thought it might be. I'll try to keep this as organized and brief as possible while I hit all the major points.
We finished batik up, and I'm fairly pleased with how one of my pieces turned out. It's a beach scene with a kora and tama player. I also made a shirt with a djembe player on it, and a blue cloth with red cracks, but I'm less pleased with how those turned out.
On Friday, we went to the island of Gorée, a tiny island which was a major hub in the Atlantic slave trade. Upon arriving, I was immediately struck by what I felt to be the strong contrast between the island's gorgeous architecture and its horrific history. Our first stop on the island was a boarding house where slaves were kept in pretty abysmal conditions before being shipped out to the US or Europe. There were some other tourists there, and it was weird to see them taking photos smiling in front of the slave quarters. We then visited a museum dedicated to women in Senegal, which was apparently the first of its kind in West Africa. There was a lot of interesting stuff there, but the heat made it a little hard to concentrate at times. After lunch, we wandered around the island for a while, and Jeannie and I got the opportunity to visit the old French fort on the top of the island, which has been converted into an artists' studio. After visiting another former fort that now functions as a sort of museum of anthropology, we headed back to the mainland. Overall, I was surprised by how tourist-y the island was. The locals seemed really eager to capitalize on the presence of visitors, and nobody seemed particularly eager to acknowledge the island's history.
The next day, we left for our village stay. I was put in Keur Demba Kebe with Allie and Sonya, and I got to stay with the very wonderful Mbaye family, who named me Tala for the duration of my stay there. While most everyone in the village spoke only Wolof, I managed to survive by recognizing key words and getting help from my host brother, Masila, who spoke French. Additionally, there was a Peace Corps volunteer who had been living there for the past couple of years, so she was able to do some very helpful translating when she was around.
The village itself was comprised of four adjacent compounds along the road from Thies, with a fifth across the street. None of the compounds on our side of the road had electricity, and water came from a tap in the center of the village. In the three days that I was there, it's safe to say that I did very little compared to an average day in Dakar. Men would generally work in the field in the mornings while women would do housework, and much of the rest of the day was spent lying around in the heat. It was nice not having a TV running 24/7, the food was pretty good, and the night sky was absolutely beautiful without the lights of the city nearby.
On our last night, we had a sort of dance party in the larger central village of Keur Sadaro. I'm certain I made a complete fool of myself, but such is the life of a Toubab. It was especially odd considering Muslim men don't dance at all, so I initially wasn't sure if I risked offending anyone by dancing. However, it became clear that the opposite was true--I risked offending people by not dancing. On the plus side, I did get to wear some of the ridiculous clothes I bought in the market a while back.
Also, we went to the former colonial capital of Saint Louis. Because I'm getting sick of typing, I'm going to save that for a separate post.
We finished batik up, and I'm fairly pleased with how one of my pieces turned out. It's a beach scene with a kora and tama player. I also made a shirt with a djembe player on it, and a blue cloth with red cracks, but I'm less pleased with how those turned out.
On Friday, we went to the island of Gorée, a tiny island which was a major hub in the Atlantic slave trade. Upon arriving, I was immediately struck by what I felt to be the strong contrast between the island's gorgeous architecture and its horrific history. Our first stop on the island was a boarding house where slaves were kept in pretty abysmal conditions before being shipped out to the US or Europe. There were some other tourists there, and it was weird to see them taking photos smiling in front of the slave quarters. We then visited a museum dedicated to women in Senegal, which was apparently the first of its kind in West Africa. There was a lot of interesting stuff there, but the heat made it a little hard to concentrate at times. After lunch, we wandered around the island for a while, and Jeannie and I got the opportunity to visit the old French fort on the top of the island, which has been converted into an artists' studio. After visiting another former fort that now functions as a sort of museum of anthropology, we headed back to the mainland. Overall, I was surprised by how tourist-y the island was. The locals seemed really eager to capitalize on the presence of visitors, and nobody seemed particularly eager to acknowledge the island's history.
The next day, we left for our village stay. I was put in Keur Demba Kebe with Allie and Sonya, and I got to stay with the very wonderful Mbaye family, who named me Tala for the duration of my stay there. While most everyone in the village spoke only Wolof, I managed to survive by recognizing key words and getting help from my host brother, Masila, who spoke French. Additionally, there was a Peace Corps volunteer who had been living there for the past couple of years, so she was able to do some very helpful translating when she was around.
The village itself was comprised of four adjacent compounds along the road from Thies, with a fifth across the street. None of the compounds on our side of the road had electricity, and water came from a tap in the center of the village. In the three days that I was there, it's safe to say that I did very little compared to an average day in Dakar. Men would generally work in the field in the mornings while women would do housework, and much of the rest of the day was spent lying around in the heat. It was nice not having a TV running 24/7, the food was pretty good, and the night sky was absolutely beautiful without the lights of the city nearby.
On our last night, we had a sort of dance party in the larger central village of Keur Sadaro. I'm certain I made a complete fool of myself, but such is the life of a Toubab. It was especially odd considering Muslim men don't dance at all, so I initially wasn't sure if I risked offending anyone by dancing. However, it became clear that the opposite was true--I risked offending people by not dancing. On the plus side, I did get to wear some of the ridiculous clothes I bought in the market a while back.
Also, we went to the former colonial capital of Saint Louis. Because I'm getting sick of typing, I'm going to save that for a separate post.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Bandia, recycled art and the end of dance
It’s been a while since my last post, so I’ll have to keep the updates brief.
We’ve finished up our workshops on dance and djembe, and I certainly would have liked another week of djembe. Near the end of the workshop, something “clicked” and I felt very comfortable with all of the different rhythms we had learned, and I was able to really play and get into the music without having to think about it. It was probably as much fun as I’ve had since coming here.
As for dance, I’m somewhat glad that it‘s over. It’s not that I ultimately didn’t end up enjoying myself, but the heat made for a miserable hour and a half of intense physical activity each day. Nevertheless, I after some initial struggles, I feel that I made more progress than I had thought I would at the outset for someone who had, for all intents and purposes, never danced before. I doubt that I’ll be able to take any the specific dances that I learned and bring them back to the US (the motions would be laughable in a modern American club), but I at least have a greater degree of confidence in my ability to dance than I did before.
On Saturday, we went as a group to the Bandia wildlife preserve, where a number of species of wild animals, including giraffes, rhinos and antelope are kept in a vast expanse of savannah. We drove through the preserve in 4X4 trucks along dirt paths, getting up close and personal with a variety of species. While we stayed in the trucks for most of the time, we ended up getting out and wandering into the bush to see the rhinos that were sleeping nearby. We got within about 10 feet of them, and got some great photos, which was quite exciting.
On Sunday, I went to the HLM market with Alicia and Lisa, where I bought a couple of Senegalese outfits that I might or might not ever wear. Following that, Milo and I went to the artisan market along the west coast to try to do some research on recycled art for an assignment for our Arts and Culture Seminar. Ultimately, we probably got a lot of false information, and ended up getting fleeced pretty badly and pushed into buying a bunch of really expensive recycled art that we didn’t really want. Fortunately, we went to the Institute Française today and got some much better information from an artist who creates bird sculptures from materials he finds in the street. Best of all, it didn’t cost us anything.
Tomorrow, we start our three day batik workshop, followed by a Friday trip to the island of Goree (a hub of the West African slave trade). On Saturday, we leave for Ker Sedaro for our first village stay. I don’t know if I’ll post anything before then, but we’ll be in Saint Louis (the former colonial capital) afterwards, at which point I’ll probably have internet access.
We’ve finished up our workshops on dance and djembe, and I certainly would have liked another week of djembe. Near the end of the workshop, something “clicked” and I felt very comfortable with all of the different rhythms we had learned, and I was able to really play and get into the music without having to think about it. It was probably as much fun as I’ve had since coming here.
As for dance, I’m somewhat glad that it‘s over. It’s not that I ultimately didn’t end up enjoying myself, but the heat made for a miserable hour and a half of intense physical activity each day. Nevertheless, I after some initial struggles, I feel that I made more progress than I had thought I would at the outset for someone who had, for all intents and purposes, never danced before. I doubt that I’ll be able to take any the specific dances that I learned and bring them back to the US (the motions would be laughable in a modern American club), but I at least have a greater degree of confidence in my ability to dance than I did before.
On Saturday, we went as a group to the Bandia wildlife preserve, where a number of species of wild animals, including giraffes, rhinos and antelope are kept in a vast expanse of savannah. We drove through the preserve in 4X4 trucks along dirt paths, getting up close and personal with a variety of species. While we stayed in the trucks for most of the time, we ended up getting out and wandering into the bush to see the rhinos that were sleeping nearby. We got within about 10 feet of them, and got some great photos, which was quite exciting.
On Sunday, I went to the HLM market with Alicia and Lisa, where I bought a couple of Senegalese outfits that I might or might not ever wear. Following that, Milo and I went to the artisan market along the west coast to try to do some research on recycled art for an assignment for our Arts and Culture Seminar. Ultimately, we probably got a lot of false information, and ended up getting fleeced pretty badly and pushed into buying a bunch of really expensive recycled art that we didn’t really want. Fortunately, we went to the Institute Française today and got some much better information from an artist who creates bird sculptures from materials he finds in the street. Best of all, it didn’t cost us anything.
Tomorrow, we start our three day batik workshop, followed by a Friday trip to the island of Goree (a hub of the West African slave trade). On Saturday, we leave for Ker Sedaro for our first village stay. I don’t know if I’ll post anything before then, but we’ll be in Saint Louis (the former colonial capital) afterwards, at which point I’ll probably have internet access.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Dance, Djembe and MacGyver
Today was our first day of dance and Djembe at SIT, and it certainly was an interesting one. As someone who doesn't normally dance at all, getting into the rhythm of Senegalese dance proved particularly difficult. With the variety of arm and leg movements used, some of the dances feel a lot like trying to rub your stomach at the same time. Eventually, I started to get the hang of it, though this next week of classes is going to be tricky. Physically, the dancing was an incredible workout, and I was quite literally sweating more than I ever have in my life. I'm well on my way to drinking 5 liters of water today.
Djembe was definitely easier, and I'm looking forward to playing it more, along with the Tama later on in the program.
Something else that bears mentioning is an incident that occurred with my fan last night. Upon deciding to turn in for the night, I went to plug in my fan only to discover that one of the prongs had broken off of the electrical plug. I decided to try to tape the prong back on and try to plug it back in. This worked only momentarily; the prong broke off again, this time in the outlet.
Upon realizing my failure, I decided I would try to sleep without a fan. I slept in fits and starts for about a half hour, finally waking up drenched in sweat, vowing to fix the fan situation if it took all night.
First, deciding that I would rather risk electrocution than spend a night sleepless and sweating, I used my pocket knife to disassemble the electrical outlet and tried to remove the piece of the plug that was stuck in it. While I don't think I got the piece out, I at least moved it around enough that it was out of the way. I then reassembled the outlet and tested it out to make sure it was working properly.
In so doing, I realized that the power adapter that I've been using for my computer works as a sort of miniature extender, and in order to get the fan working again all I would have to do would be to find some conductive material to shove into the socket of the adapter to take the place of the missing prong. After experimenting with pieces of pens and the like for a half hour or so, I noticed that the screw that I had removed to disassemble the wall socket was about the right size. Feeling I had nothing to lose, I put the screw in the hole, jammed the plug into the adapter, stuck the adapter into the wall and...
Alxahmdulilaay!
It's hard to describe just how elated I was when the fan started working again. I can honestly say it's the happiest I can remember being in a long time. For the first time in my life, I felt what it must be like to be MacGyver. And it was awesome.
I'm going to head to the hardware store tomorrow for a more permanent solution, and I'm planning on getting a haircut as well. We'll see how that goes.
Djembe was definitely easier, and I'm looking forward to playing it more, along with the Tama later on in the program.
Something else that bears mentioning is an incident that occurred with my fan last night. Upon deciding to turn in for the night, I went to plug in my fan only to discover that one of the prongs had broken off of the electrical plug. I decided to try to tape the prong back on and try to plug it back in. This worked only momentarily; the prong broke off again, this time in the outlet.
Upon realizing my failure, I decided I would try to sleep without a fan. I slept in fits and starts for about a half hour, finally waking up drenched in sweat, vowing to fix the fan situation if it took all night.
First, deciding that I would rather risk electrocution than spend a night sleepless and sweating, I used my pocket knife to disassemble the electrical outlet and tried to remove the piece of the plug that was stuck in it. While I don't think I got the piece out, I at least moved it around enough that it was out of the way. I then reassembled the outlet and tested it out to make sure it was working properly.
In so doing, I realized that the power adapter that I've been using for my computer works as a sort of miniature extender, and in order to get the fan working again all I would have to do would be to find some conductive material to shove into the socket of the adapter to take the place of the missing prong. After experimenting with pieces of pens and the like for a half hour or so, I noticed that the screw that I had removed to disassemble the wall socket was about the right size. Feeling I had nothing to lose, I put the screw in the hole, jammed the plug into the adapter, stuck the adapter into the wall and...
Alxahmdulilaay!
It's hard to describe just how elated I was when the fan started working again. I can honestly say it's the happiest I can remember being in a long time. For the first time in my life, I felt what it must be like to be MacGyver. And it was awesome.
I'm going to head to the hardware store tomorrow for a more permanent solution, and I'm planning on getting a haircut as well. We'll see how that goes.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Festival of Korité and the end of Ramadan
Today was the festival of Korité, the celebration that marks the end of Ramadan. Fortunately, it fell on the earlier of the two possible days on which it could have fallen--my host family was very excited upon having heard the news last night that the crescent moon has been spotted over Touba.
I woke up around 9:00, and got dressed in my traditional clothing in time for my family to return home from their morning of prayers at the mosque. The day was spent playing Scrabble (I haven't got up the courage to even try yet, I just watched) and greeting visitors.
Essentially, Korité is a day of feasting as well as a day of forgiveness. People go around their neighborhoods asking their neighbors to forgive them (baal ma aq) for any transgressions that they might have unwittingly committed. I found out from Blondin, my tech-savvy law-student host cousin, that it's become common practice among the youth to send text messages to this effect (yet another example of the interplay between tradition and modernity).
The meal we had today was probably the best one I've had since coming here: Delicious meat cooked over an open flame accompanied by fresh vegetables, and french fries hot off the deep-fryer. To top it all off, I had a can of orange Fanta. Now, that may not sound all that great, but let me qualify that statement by saying this: Sweet mercy, the orange Fanta here is so much better than in the US! Dié, my host brother, was quick to point this out as well.
Also, my host mom is back from Paris, so I'll get the opportunity tonight to show her the photos I brought from home, and we'll also get to open the Colorado 1870-2000 book that I brought.
That's all for now. I need to get out of this traditional get-up, because as comfy and pajama-like as it is, it's still really dang hot here.
I woke up around 9:00, and got dressed in my traditional clothing in time for my family to return home from their morning of prayers at the mosque. The day was spent playing Scrabble (I haven't got up the courage to even try yet, I just watched) and greeting visitors.
Essentially, Korité is a day of feasting as well as a day of forgiveness. People go around their neighborhoods asking their neighbors to forgive them (baal ma aq) for any transgressions that they might have unwittingly committed. I found out from Blondin, my tech-savvy law-student host cousin, that it's become common practice among the youth to send text messages to this effect (yet another example of the interplay between tradition and modernity).
The meal we had today was probably the best one I've had since coming here: Delicious meat cooked over an open flame accompanied by fresh vegetables, and french fries hot off the deep-fryer. To top it all off, I had a can of orange Fanta. Now, that may not sound all that great, but let me qualify that statement by saying this: Sweet mercy, the orange Fanta here is so much better than in the US! Dié, my host brother, was quick to point this out as well.
Also, my host mom is back from Paris, so I'll get the opportunity tonight to show her the photos I brought from home, and we'll also get to open the Colorado 1870-2000 book that I brought.
That's all for now. I need to get out of this traditional get-up, because as comfy and pajama-like as it is, it's still really dang hot here.
Friday, September 18, 2009
On the upswing
I still haven’t figured out to string together all the random stuff that’s been happening here, so here follows a bunch of random paragraphs about what’s been going on here.
Things have gotten significantly better in the last couple of days. I’m trying to open up more to my host family, with some degree of success. It takes a lot of effort to follow all of the conversations that are going on at once, but I feel like I’m making progress. I’ve decided to read the newspapers here as often as possible, so that I can have more in-depth and relevant discussions. My host mother returns from Paris tomorrow, so it’ll be interesting to see how that changes the family dynamics in the house. Up until now, things have been fairly modern and informal.
My change in mood has also been aided by the fact that the weather has been a bit cooler and less rainy since the deluge of earlier this week, which has been pleasant. If this is any indication of things to come, it seems that the weather here in the dry season might be rather pleasant. Alternately, it’s possible that I’m just getting used to the heat and humidity, and in reality the change hasn’t been that drastic.
We had a half day of school today, and we had originally planned to use the afternoon to go to the beach. However, after lunch, the skies seemed a little ominous. While a few people still ended up going, I joined a group in going to the Institute Francaise, which is essentially a French cultural compound in the middle of downtown Dakar. Inside, there’s a little French café, a small cinema and a museum. We went there to see a documentary called “Home,” an examination of the current environmental perils that our planet is facing. Afterwards, I decided it was time to buy some Senegalese clothes, both due to not having brought very many clothes, and due to the fact that Sunday (or possibly Monday, depending on whether or not the crescent moon is spotted tomorrow night) is the festival of Korite, the end of Ramadan, and we’re expected to dress up a little bit. I feel like I got a decent bargain (about $12) on an outfit, but I’m probably wrong.
That’s about it for now. I’ll get on uploading photos and whatnot once I take some more and get to a place where the connection is fast enough.
Things have gotten significantly better in the last couple of days. I’m trying to open up more to my host family, with some degree of success. It takes a lot of effort to follow all of the conversations that are going on at once, but I feel like I’m making progress. I’ve decided to read the newspapers here as often as possible, so that I can have more in-depth and relevant discussions. My host mother returns from Paris tomorrow, so it’ll be interesting to see how that changes the family dynamics in the house. Up until now, things have been fairly modern and informal.
My change in mood has also been aided by the fact that the weather has been a bit cooler and less rainy since the deluge of earlier this week, which has been pleasant. If this is any indication of things to come, it seems that the weather here in the dry season might be rather pleasant. Alternately, it’s possible that I’m just getting used to the heat and humidity, and in reality the change hasn’t been that drastic.
We had a half day of school today, and we had originally planned to use the afternoon to go to the beach. However, after lunch, the skies seemed a little ominous. While a few people still ended up going, I joined a group in going to the Institute Francaise, which is essentially a French cultural compound in the middle of downtown Dakar. Inside, there’s a little French café, a small cinema and a museum. We went there to see a documentary called “Home,” an examination of the current environmental perils that our planet is facing. Afterwards, I decided it was time to buy some Senegalese clothes, both due to not having brought very many clothes, and due to the fact that Sunday (or possibly Monday, depending on whether or not the crescent moon is spotted tomorrow night) is the festival of Korite, the end of Ramadan, and we’re expected to dress up a little bit. I feel like I got a decent bargain (about $12) on an outfit, but I’m probably wrong.
That’s about it for now. I’ll get on uploading photos and whatnot once I take some more and get to a place where the connection is fast enough.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Arrival in the homestay
Orientation has ended, and we’re getting settled (relatively speaking) into our homestay families here. Moving from the air-conditioned luxury of the Auberge Good Rade to a home with just fans, if anything, has been a bit tough. Even at night, it’s still at least 80 degrees here, and humid. The first night was fairly difficult, especially due to being woken up before sunrise by the prayers of my family, but last night was a bit more comfortable (physically, anyway).
Thus far, my experience with my homestay family (the Thiam family) has been full of surprises, not all of them pleasant. By Senegalese standards, my family is very modern. They have a computer and wi-fi, which has been great. However, they all speak French very quickly, and it’s incredibly difficult to keep up with their conversations, particularly when there‘s so much background noise from the TV, a stereo, and the prayers coming from the mosque all at once. Furthermore, despite having been told that I would have to expect not to have any privacy, my family in general has been almost too respectful of my privacy. They don’t talk to me very much, so I’m working on putting forth more effort to engage myself in their existing conversations. This is proving difficult so far, as they often talk about both soccer and politics, two things for which I don’t yet have enough vocabulary to make meaningful conversation. In general, I feel very awkward, as if nobody can understand what I’m saying. I almost feel like I'm losing my ability to speak French, because it seems like every time I open my mouth, I have to try incredibly hard to help people understand what I'm trying to say. It's a real confidence killer.
Anyway, Ramadan ends this weekend, and we’ve been told to expect things to change drastically in the city. From what we’ve been told, Dakar has been fairly calm by comparison, so it’ll be interesting to see things really pick up in the city. Additionally, the rainy season is supposed to end soon, and I’m certain everyone in the group is excited for that. Today, it rained as hard as it ever has since we arrived here, which quite literally turned the streets into rivers. We were at lunch at the time, which made getting back to school a bit of an adventure.
Later, if I can get the image uploader to work, I'll put up some pictures from our visit to the artists’ village, which is where we’ll be doing either bronze sculpture, batik, ceramics or glass painting come October. Additionally, we had one of the top kora players in Senegal give us a demo at SIT, and I’ll post an mp3 of that once I get it converted from the useless audio format it’s in now.
Thus far, my experience with my homestay family (the Thiam family) has been full of surprises, not all of them pleasant. By Senegalese standards, my family is very modern. They have a computer and wi-fi, which has been great. However, they all speak French very quickly, and it’s incredibly difficult to keep up with their conversations, particularly when there‘s so much background noise from the TV, a stereo, and the prayers coming from the mosque all at once. Furthermore, despite having been told that I would have to expect not to have any privacy, my family in general has been almost too respectful of my privacy. They don’t talk to me very much, so I’m working on putting forth more effort to engage myself in their existing conversations. This is proving difficult so far, as they often talk about both soccer and politics, two things for which I don’t yet have enough vocabulary to make meaningful conversation. In general, I feel very awkward, as if nobody can understand what I’m saying. I almost feel like I'm losing my ability to speak French, because it seems like every time I open my mouth, I have to try incredibly hard to help people understand what I'm trying to say. It's a real confidence killer.
Anyway, Ramadan ends this weekend, and we’ve been told to expect things to change drastically in the city. From what we’ve been told, Dakar has been fairly calm by comparison, so it’ll be interesting to see things really pick up in the city. Additionally, the rainy season is supposed to end soon, and I’m certain everyone in the group is excited for that. Today, it rained as hard as it ever has since we arrived here, which quite literally turned the streets into rivers. We were at lunch at the time, which made getting back to school a bit of an adventure.
Later, if I can get the image uploader to work, I'll put up some pictures from our visit to the artists’ village, which is where we’ll be doing either bronze sculpture, batik, ceramics or glass painting come October. Additionally, we had one of the top kora players in Senegal give us a demo at SIT, and I’ll post an mp3 of that once I get it converted from the useless audio format it’s in now.
Monday, September 14, 2009
The Beach and Homestay Preparations
Since this is my last chance to take advantage of the hotel wi-fi before I move into my homestay here, I figured I'd post one more time.
Yesterday, we took a tour of Dakar, seeing everything from downtown again, to the east coast, to the west coast (which is where all of the rich people live). Much like I saw in Maputo, there's very much a vast range of socioeconomic backgrounds here.
We went to the beach at the end of the tour, which was very lovely. I originally hadn't planned to swim for fear of hookworms, but upon recognizing that I don't often get the opportunity to swim in the ocean, I changed my mind. Ultimately, I was glad I did, and I could easily see myself going to the beach once a week for the remainder of this program.
Anyhow, I need to pack up and eat breakfast, so that's all I have time for. I'll post again once I'm settled in my homestay and I've found a decent cyber cafe nearby.
Yesterday, we took a tour of Dakar, seeing everything from downtown again, to the east coast, to the west coast (which is where all of the rich people live). Much like I saw in Maputo, there's very much a vast range of socioeconomic backgrounds here.
We went to the beach at the end of the tour, which was very lovely. I originally hadn't planned to swim for fear of hookworms, but upon recognizing that I don't often get the opportunity to swim in the ocean, I changed my mind. Ultimately, I was glad I did, and I could easily see myself going to the beach once a week for the remainder of this program.
Anyhow, I need to pack up and eat breakfast, so that's all I have time for. I'll post again once I'm settled in my homestay and I've found a decent cyber cafe nearby.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Wolcats
Milo (my roommate) and I came up with wolcats last night. They're pretty much lolcats, but in Wolof. It's something that's probably only funny to about 8 people in the entire world.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Orientation and Drop-Off
We’ve spent the last couple of days in orientation here, and so far everything has been going wonderfully. The SIT staff is phenomenal, the rest of the students are great, and the Senegalese population in general is very friendly and open.
We’ve launched right into learning Wolof, and SIT certainly doesn’t pull any punches in making sure we’re immersed immediately. Wolof is a very complex language, and it’s going to take a great deal of practice to get the hang of. For example, this is the traditional set of greetings that people exchange (with translation in parentheses).
-Salaamalekum! (Hello/peace be with you)
-Malekumsalaam! (Hello/peace be with you)
-Naka nga def? (How do you do?)
-Mangi fi rekk. (I’m fine)
-Naka waa ker ga? (How is your family?)
-Nunga fa. (They’re fine)
-Nanga fananne/Nanga yendoo? (How did you spend the night/day?)
-Jamm rekk, alxamdulilay. (In peace only, thanks be to God)
-Sa yaram jamm? (How is your body/health?)
-Jamm rekk, alxamdulilay.
Then, if we don’t know one another, we go on to exchange names at which point each person repeats the other’s last name continuously as a sign of respect. Then, we may ask one another where we come from, etc. It’s going to take a lot of practice getting used to.
Speaking of names, it’s happened several times now that when I tell people my name is Kevin, people will respond with, “Ah, Kevin Costner!” Similarly, Alicia, another SIT student, is often greeted with “Alicia Keys!”
On Friday, representatives from our homestay families came to meet us at SIT. I met my homestay “brother,” who was very nice, and whose name I unfortunately forgot (I’m bad enough at remembering names in English, but without a knowledge of how to spell a name, it’s even harder to remember). We spoke in French, and we didn’t have any difficulty understanding one another, which was encouraging (though I did apologize for my lack of Wolof knowledge). The Diagne family, with whom I’ll be staying, is comprised of two parents, one of their sons (my brother) and his wife, that couple’s child, two cousins, and the maid (which is standard in Senegal for middle-class families). The house itself is very close to SIT, so I’ll only have a ten minute walk to school. I’m looking forward to moving in there.
The climate here is certainly radically different from that of Denver. It’s hot and humid here, with frequent torrential rainstorms. The streets are often flooded, and cars sometimes have to drive on the sidewalk to avoid getting stuck in puddles. I don’t mind the rain, though, because on days that it doesn’t rain the heat is worse.
The SIT building itself is interesting. It’s a single-floor former home with classrooms both inside and outside, and large snails crawling around outside on wet days. As it turns out, when the building was still a house, Stevie Wonder stayed there for a while in the 80s, along with Peter Gabriel.
Anyhow. Saturday was our “drop-off” day, which in short meant that the SIT staff put us into cabs in groups of three and sent us out into downtown Dakar to fend for ourselves. We were given a list of questions to find answers to, such as “did the Senegalese soccer team qualify for the Cup of African Nations this year?” and “are there any interesting events happening this week in the city?” Overall, the experience was positive, and it’s allowed me to feel a bit more comfortable with my surroundings.
In spite of the fact that it’s still Ramadan and fewer people are out and about and many restaurants and schools are closed, downtown Dakar is crowded, noisy, vibrant and surprisingly cosmopolitan. One incident in particular bears mentioning. One of the questions we were supposed to find an answer to was “what is the rate of exchange for currency today?” In finding the answer to the question, we were supposed to exchange some dollars for CFA. In searching for a bank, we were first directed to a Western Union, which only did credit transfers. The workers there directed us to a bank where we might exchange some money. Along the way, we were intercepted by a man named Amadou, who said he would direct us there. We were told in advance to be wary of scams, so we knew in advance that there was likely some sort of catch to all of this. Initially, not understanding that I needed to change cash, Amadou took us to an ATM, at which point I had to explain that I didn’t have my debit card with me. He then took me to the market, to a random stand of a friend of his, who claimed that he could change money for me. I insisted that I needed something official, with a receipt. Amadou then took us to another location, which was essentially a storefront leading to a small empty stall with bare walls and nothing but a chair inside. There, an older, well-dressed man with a calculator said that he could change money for me at a rate of about 400 CFA/dollar (the actual exchange rate is about 500 CFA/dollar). While it was clear that this sort of transaction was taking place, I insisted that I needed to go to a bank and get a receipt for the transaction. The men at this stall claimed that the bank would only change amounts larger than $100, which I knew not to be true. I explained that I wouldn‘t change any money there, and the girls in my group insisted that we take a taxi back to Point E (the neighborhood where our school is located) to eat rather than go to the restaurant that Amadou was recommending. We quickly bought some small gifts (another requirement of our assignment), and Amadou helped us find a cab. He never asked for money, though I can assume he got a cut of the profits from the gifts that we bought.
Upon returning to SIT, I learned that men with calculators like the one I encountered in the street are common, and they’re called “cambistes,” which essentially means they operate on the black market.
That’s about it for now. I must apologize for the lack of pictures, as Dakar itself is not an environment conducive to photo-taking. It's somewhat hard to understand why without experiencing it.
We’ve launched right into learning Wolof, and SIT certainly doesn’t pull any punches in making sure we’re immersed immediately. Wolof is a very complex language, and it’s going to take a great deal of practice to get the hang of. For example, this is the traditional set of greetings that people exchange (with translation in parentheses).
-Salaamalekum! (Hello/peace be with you)
-Malekumsalaam! (Hello/peace be with you)
-Naka nga def? (How do you do?)
-Mangi fi rekk. (I’m fine)
-Naka waa ker ga? (How is your family?)
-Nunga fa. (They’re fine)
-Nanga fananne/Nanga yendoo? (How did you spend the night/day?)
-Jamm rekk, alxamdulilay. (In peace only, thanks be to God)
-Sa yaram jamm? (How is your body/health?)
-Jamm rekk, alxamdulilay.
Then, if we don’t know one another, we go on to exchange names at which point each person repeats the other’s last name continuously as a sign of respect. Then, we may ask one another where we come from, etc. It’s going to take a lot of practice getting used to.
Speaking of names, it’s happened several times now that when I tell people my name is Kevin, people will respond with, “Ah, Kevin Costner!” Similarly, Alicia, another SIT student, is often greeted with “Alicia Keys!”
On Friday, representatives from our homestay families came to meet us at SIT. I met my homestay “brother,” who was very nice, and whose name I unfortunately forgot (I’m bad enough at remembering names in English, but without a knowledge of how to spell a name, it’s even harder to remember). We spoke in French, and we didn’t have any difficulty understanding one another, which was encouraging (though I did apologize for my lack of Wolof knowledge). The Diagne family, with whom I’ll be staying, is comprised of two parents, one of their sons (my brother) and his wife, that couple’s child, two cousins, and the maid (which is standard in Senegal for middle-class families). The house itself is very close to SIT, so I’ll only have a ten minute walk to school. I’m looking forward to moving in there.
The climate here is certainly radically different from that of Denver. It’s hot and humid here, with frequent torrential rainstorms. The streets are often flooded, and cars sometimes have to drive on the sidewalk to avoid getting stuck in puddles. I don’t mind the rain, though, because on days that it doesn’t rain the heat is worse.
The SIT building itself is interesting. It’s a single-floor former home with classrooms both inside and outside, and large snails crawling around outside on wet days. As it turns out, when the building was still a house, Stevie Wonder stayed there for a while in the 80s, along with Peter Gabriel.
Anyhow. Saturday was our “drop-off” day, which in short meant that the SIT staff put us into cabs in groups of three and sent us out into downtown Dakar to fend for ourselves. We were given a list of questions to find answers to, such as “did the Senegalese soccer team qualify for the Cup of African Nations this year?” and “are there any interesting events happening this week in the city?” Overall, the experience was positive, and it’s allowed me to feel a bit more comfortable with my surroundings.
In spite of the fact that it’s still Ramadan and fewer people are out and about and many restaurants and schools are closed, downtown Dakar is crowded, noisy, vibrant and surprisingly cosmopolitan. One incident in particular bears mentioning. One of the questions we were supposed to find an answer to was “what is the rate of exchange for currency today?” In finding the answer to the question, we were supposed to exchange some dollars for CFA. In searching for a bank, we were first directed to a Western Union, which only did credit transfers. The workers there directed us to a bank where we might exchange some money. Along the way, we were intercepted by a man named Amadou, who said he would direct us there. We were told in advance to be wary of scams, so we knew in advance that there was likely some sort of catch to all of this. Initially, not understanding that I needed to change cash, Amadou took us to an ATM, at which point I had to explain that I didn’t have my debit card with me. He then took me to the market, to a random stand of a friend of his, who claimed that he could change money for me. I insisted that I needed something official, with a receipt. Amadou then took us to another location, which was essentially a storefront leading to a small empty stall with bare walls and nothing but a chair inside. There, an older, well-dressed man with a calculator said that he could change money for me at a rate of about 400 CFA/dollar (the actual exchange rate is about 500 CFA/dollar). While it was clear that this sort of transaction was taking place, I insisted that I needed to go to a bank and get a receipt for the transaction. The men at this stall claimed that the bank would only change amounts larger than $100, which I knew not to be true. I explained that I wouldn‘t change any money there, and the girls in my group insisted that we take a taxi back to Point E (the neighborhood where our school is located) to eat rather than go to the restaurant that Amadou was recommending. We quickly bought some small gifts (another requirement of our assignment), and Amadou helped us find a cab. He never asked for money, though I can assume he got a cut of the profits from the gifts that we bought.
Upon returning to SIT, I learned that men with calculators like the one I encountered in the street are common, and they’re called “cambistes,” which essentially means they operate on the black market.
That’s about it for now. I must apologize for the lack of pictures, as Dakar itself is not an environment conducive to photo-taking. It's somewhat hard to understand why without experiencing it.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Arrival
I'll keep things brief, as I'm mere seconds away from falling asleep on the closest flat surface.
I've arrived in Dakar, and was pleasantly surprised that my academic director was waiting at the airport when I got off the plane at 1:30 this morning. I had fully anticipated having to wait until everyone else arrived at 6.
I got to use French with some random people, and almost got ripped off at the airport due to trying to function on three or four hours of sleep. It was raining when I arrived, which was a pleasant relief from the 28 degree (Celsius) heat and humidity.
I'm in the hotel right now, using the Wi-Fi and anticipating a nap and a shower before everyone else arrives.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Preparations, expectations, anticipation
The first leg of my flight leaves Denver at 6:00 tonight (first to Frankfurt, then to Lisbon, and finally to Dakar), so I thought I'd take some time to jot a few things down before I leave.
For those of you who might not know, the focus of this field-based study abroad program is arts and culture. I'll be learning various forms of visual art, music and dance as well as language, history and politics. The final month of the program is formatted as an independent study, which I plan to use to study something in the field of human rights (though that may change).
I feel fairly well prepared for this trip, given the amount of time I've spent reading and watching films from Senegal. I'm fairly confident in my ability to speak French, but I've come to learn that Wolof will likely be more useful. I've familiarized myself with the basics of this language, but resources for learning it have been hard to come by.
I'm looking forward to meeting my host family and other students in the program, and I'm certain the experiences that I'll have in Senegal will be life-changing. (The one thing I'm dreading is getting sick--I haven't thrown up since eighth grade, and I have no desire to break my vomit-streak just yet.)
As for what you can expect from this blog, I'm hoping to post not only photos but audio as well (My experiences in Mozambique taught me the importance of having an audio recorder on hand). I'm not much of a photographer, but I'll do my best to get at least a few shots each place I visit. While I can't make any promises in regards to how often I'll be able to provide updates, I'll make every effort to post as soon as I can with interesting news. While I will have consistent internet access in Dakar, we'll be making numerous excursions to other outlying areas that likely won't be as well-connected.
As I'll be waiting for a good six hours or more for the rest of my group in the airport in Dakar, I'll likely post from there once I've arrived (assuming internet access is available).
Here's to hoping that Lufthansa is better at not losing my luggage than South African Airlines was. (Here's to parenthetical statements as well, since every paragraph has one.)
For those of you who might not know, the focus of this field-based study abroad program is arts and culture. I'll be learning various forms of visual art, music and dance as well as language, history and politics. The final month of the program is formatted as an independent study, which I plan to use to study something in the field of human rights (though that may change).
I feel fairly well prepared for this trip, given the amount of time I've spent reading and watching films from Senegal. I'm fairly confident in my ability to speak French, but I've come to learn that Wolof will likely be more useful. I've familiarized myself with the basics of this language, but resources for learning it have been hard to come by.
I'm looking forward to meeting my host family and other students in the program, and I'm certain the experiences that I'll have in Senegal will be life-changing. (The one thing I'm dreading is getting sick--I haven't thrown up since eighth grade, and I have no desire to break my vomit-streak just yet.)
As for what you can expect from this blog, I'm hoping to post not only photos but audio as well (My experiences in Mozambique taught me the importance of having an audio recorder on hand). I'm not much of a photographer, but I'll do my best to get at least a few shots each place I visit. While I can't make any promises in regards to how often I'll be able to provide updates, I'll make every effort to post as soon as I can with interesting news. While I will have consistent internet access in Dakar, we'll be making numerous excursions to other outlying areas that likely won't be as well-connected.
As I'll be waiting for a good six hours or more for the rest of my group in the airport in Dakar, I'll likely post from there once I've arrived (assuming internet access is available).
Here's to hoping that Lufthansa is better at not losing my luggage than South African Airlines was. (Here's to parenthetical statements as well, since every paragraph has one.)
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