Christmas came early

Yesterday... was a very exciting day! I went to the post office and had two packages! Not only did these two packages brighten my day, but they also brightened the days of the post office workers who had the opportunity to collect some small customs taxes from me! Which was actually good, because now we are better friends. Everybody's happy! So much thanks to International Admissions Counselor at VU, Laura Coleman, and the Mayer-Neff family of Chicago... you all are in the lottery to have my first-born child named after you, someday!

And now for some visuals, because I recently re-discovered the Photo Booth feature on my computer:

Among my new cherished treasures, a copy of the world renowned Lady Gaga documentary "One Sequin at a Time" and a photo of one of my favorite families in Chicago:

Also included among the tidings of love....

CHEETOS!!!!!!

I have had the Cheetos for less than 24 hours. I have been craving Cheetos for almost six months. You do the math.

Cheeto-hands. The mark of a good Cheetos binge. I don't want to tell you how many Cheetos remain as of now.

Okay I think that's all. Bye! Have a great day! Talk to y'all soon! I'll be eating Cheetos dipped in White Chocolate Peanut Butter and writing in my new Justin Bieber notebook, wearing this new outfit and headwrap that has brought much pride to my host family.

Verbal Altercations

Recently, I have had the opportunity to both observe and add my own two cents to a few spirited Senegalese debates. This is exciting for many reasons, not the least the fact that I was finally catching onto conversation enough to jump into a debate. Granted, a few of these angry chitchats were in French... but living in Thies, I've begrudgingly accepted the usefulness of my French, and I've started letting myself use it more. But hey -- communicating with people shouldn't be something that makes me feel guilty! Even if we weren't speaking in Wolof, cultural exchange was happening!

Anyway, one night I was sitting with my host mother, quietly in the backyard, as we do most nights between 8:30 and 9:30. My host father was sitting a little ways away on the porch doing his sudoku, as he does most nights between 8:30 and 9:30, not to mention every other hour of the day. They were just chatting... but then, as it often happens in Senegal, their voices started rising. My host mom eventually started yelling, using her hands a lot, and my host dad even stood up from his chair to make a point. For a family that usually has no qualms firing themselves up about political issues, I took note and tried to listen more closely. Maybe something was happening with President Wade! Maybe there was a big protest or a strike! So I stopped staring off into space (literally... so many stars!) and tried to focus my Wolof.

What I heard was... repeated use of the word for cheese.

I thought I must be wrong. They can't be arguing about cheese. There is no way. Cheese must be a metaphor! The word for cheese must have multiple meanings. I kept listening. Cheese! Body. Cheese! Health. Body! I finally just couldn't take it anymore and asked what they were arguing about.

My host mom's face lit up. "Ah-HAAA!" (this is her trademark exclamation) "Mame Diowma will prove me right! Is Vache Qui Rit (Laughing Cow Cream Cheese) good for the body?"

I didn't know whose side my answer was going to help so I treaded carefully. But I mean, the answer was obvious.

"No. It's not good for your body. I mean, it's good -- it tastes delicious! And it's good in moderation, I guess. But it's not healthy... um. Yeah. So, no. It's not good for the body."

My host mom let out a victorious shriek! My host dad pushed his glasses up on his nose and silently sat back down on his chair, returning to his sudoku! The judge had spoken and there was only one winner!

I've also fallen into numerous arguments about the health of fasting. As I mentioned before, this is something I feel strongly about... I just find the health detriments of fasting unobjectionable. I'm not against people doing it, and I think it can be a great spiritual practice. But no, at the end of the day, it is not good for your body. It is hard for your body. It is insanely hard on your body. Numerous people in Senegal have enjoyed picking fights with me over this point... including people who run HEALTH departments at national-level non-profits. They tell me that fasting cleanses the body. Another person told me,

"Think of your body like a machine! You use a machine every day, every hour. But then, for one month each year, you give the machine a break! The machine needs to rest. It will last longer if you rest it!"

To which I responded:

"Fasting is not giving the machine a rest... your body is still living during Ramadan! The machine never stops! All you are doing is turning off the electricity and still trying to make it work for most of the day!"

But you know, you can't win the fasting argument. You just really can't.

Luckily, you can win the Vache Qui Rit argument. So while I don't seem to be making much progress teaching people about how nutrition/the body works, I at least seem to be making a dent in the segment of Senegalese population that believes Vache Qui Rit is a health food. Here's to behavior change!

Teach Me How to Conjugate/Dougie

So the definite highlight of my past couple weeks has been my new relationship with the local middle school. You may remember a few months back, one of the local English teachers totally stiffed me for a tea date. After I had gone out and bought myself a tea pot! The nerve! But it's cool, I got a teapot out of the deal and my pride has slowly mended itself. I recently decided to give the old school another chance, and I think second time is the charm for us! My sisters had been heading over there for summer school, so one day I followed them and was treated to a free French lesson, an invitation to help with English classes, and a crew of really friendly/non-creepy/French and English fluent teachers – yeah!

Initially, I observed a few classes. The great part about summer school is that the classes are only about 20 students -- much different than the overflowing classrooms typical of Senegal during the school year, with one teacher wrangling upwards of 50-60 kids. So seeing a teacher interact with a small group was quite a treat, and the kids all had a chance to contribute, talk, and ask questions. But having only 20 kids didn't change the fact that the boys far outspoke the girls, nor did it change the crazy habit Senegalese schoolchildren have of standing up, snapping their fingers, and yelling "SIR SIR SIR" in a desperate attempt to answer every single question.

Also, I just have to share some of the weird English quirks being taught in the classroom. None of them are super big deals, so I’ve tried to stay quiet and respect the teacher's authority. Besides, if I fought him, he’d just say, “No, we learn BRITISH English here… that’s why you don’t understand.”:

- There is no verb “to have.” The verb is “to have got.” If any student says “I have a T-shirt” the teacher cries, “NO! No! I have GOT a T-shirt!”

- All of the kids are forced to add and subtract the hell out of any time they read. Saying the numbers 8 and 47 to describe 8:47 is unacceptable. “NO! No! It is 13 to 9!” Oh. Life will be hard for you, child who learns this, when you go visit Britain or America.

- An eraser is a rubber. Ha. One day, each kid had to stand up and ask the person “Do you have a rubber?” as a pronunciation exercise. Yeah, I’m aware that I have the humor capabilities of a 13 year old boy. Heh. Heh.

I taught my first lesson this morning– it went as first lessons usually go, which is to say that the children were terrified of me and my English fluency and didn’t know how to react when I started acting out words like “WRESTLING!” and “RHIANNA CONCERT!” I was pretty proud of the activity I'd created -- I'd made little invitations, all with different events (like WRESTLING! or RHIANNA CONCERT!"), dates, and times. I prefaced the activity by talking about how Americans LOVE being on time, so if you're invited somewhere, you better know where you're going and when you need to be there. A little time management never hurt anyone, right? But the kids had been working on days and months, so it seemed appropriate. I'd just go around and ask them "What are you doing? Where is it? When is it?" and they would answer, in English. It seemed simple enough. I knew it probably wouldn't be simple.

They didn't find it very simple. But that's okay! We're learning! I also confiscated a cell phone during my first minute, because that’s how this class is going to roll.

Talking with the teacher after class, he mentioned that I shouldn't be discouraged because two girls in the room had absolutely no English at all -- today was their first day. I asked if he would like me to tutor them, by themselves, and he thought that was a great idea -- so I immediately had my first session with them and it was great! If I know anything, it is the English language. Yes, I am a health volunteer here first and foremost -- but I must admit, I think teaching will really help me feel less crazy and more useful. Half the battle of the Peace Corps is getting over the constantly nagging guilt that you should or could be doing more – integrating more, learning more local language, building a hospital, I don’t know. But teaching two little girls English: yeah, I can go home and say I did something today!

Other recent events:

- Ramadan family bonding time has continued! And when I say family bonding time, I mean judging French spelling bees, playing French scrabble, and doing Michael Jackson routines with my sisters. Also, when I say playing French scrabble, I mean I kind of cheated at French scrabble to save face, but only because my sisters cheated first. TANNER could be a French word, right? When my host sister questioned its meaning, I said, “You know. Like animals.” She accepted it and I am a horrible person.

- Yesterday was the Assumption, a Catholic holiday observed by this country of 95% Muslims. Woo religious freedom and tolerance! My host sister talked all week about a big dance party that happened the night of Assumption, forcing my promised attendance and then insisting I wear jeans. We loaded up the car and headed down to the Place de France... nothing. I guess the party was cancelled because of Ramadan. But it was a fun 10 minute car ride.

- I got a robinet installed in my bathroom! This would be more exciting except for the fact that Thies never has water. Except at 2:00am, for about an hour. My host mother has instructed me to leave the faucet open so as to collect this precious water every night, and I'm complying... for now. But that also involves me waking up every night at 2:30am, terrified at the sound of an impending flood, then crawling out of my mosquito net through the cricket nests to shut off the water. It's almost like I live in the bush! Almost.

- in CRICKET WATCH NEWS: the other night, I couldn't take it anymore, I just went in my bathroom and viciously murdered a family of five. I think parents were copulating because it was SO LOUD, but as I said, THEY AREN'T COPULATING ANY MORE. Nevertheless, I've learned that cricket eggs don't hatch for a year. So I can only imagine what my life will be like in a year. In the meantime, I've been allowing any spider I see in my room to live, after I give a little speech about them pulling their weight and killing crickets and leaving me alone.
Roommates.

- I've been alerted to the existence of two libraries in Thies! I haven't visited them yet, but I'm pretty excited about the prospect of them.

So I feel like I'm on the upswing. I definitely had some rough moments in the last couple of weeks, which I found strangely reflected among basically all of my friends from my stage here in Senegal. Maybe the shared freak-out was part of our adjustment? Or maybe I've just got reeeal crazy friends. Maybe both. I also apologize for anyone who's been on the receiving end of my depressive bouts. I was talking with a friend here, and I basically concluded that I'm generally happy, but when I talk to people not in Senegal and try to set up my daily scene -- I find myself becoming re-aware of little things that I normally just roll with, the little things I deal with every day that are annoying and awful and then I re-think about the problems I'm normally just embedded in, like, you know, poverty and shit, and I just end up getting more and more angry. In other words, it's not me, guys! It's talking to you that makes me angry! Ha, no, but generally, I'm good. In the end, I think what someone said to me once just continues to ring true: we must continuously reframe our reasons for being here. When you feel like we're up against a wall or things don't seem to make sense... well, you better figure out a way to justify yourself... to yourself. Some days, I can do that.

In closing, I’ll leave you all with what my host mom said to me the other day. We were sitting outside in the dark, waiting for everyone to finish their last prayer of the day. “My family, my home, my health. What more could I need? Alhamdulillah, Praise to God.” She threw up her arms and I had to agree with her.

Ramadan: I know this much is true.

Ramadan started last Tuesday. Truly, I didn’t know what to expect – I’d heard so many conflicting reports about what I was about to face that I had just stopped imagining any kind of scenario. I didn’t even know if I was going to fast or not, though after hearing our training director say “Fasting without prayer is just starving yourself” and living as a young girl in the late 90s, watching repeated after-school specials about the dangers of anorexia, I was starting to lean toward not participating. I understand that fasting for Ramadan is not anorexia, but then again, for a little Catholic girl, that's probably how it would feel to my body and mind.

I decided I would observe the first day... observe as in watch and not participate. And to be honest, I was a little sick that day. Children, pregnant women, menstruating women, and people who are sick are exempt from fasting, though many of them end up participating anyway, as Islam says they have to make up the days they don’t fast later – and who wants to do that all alone when everyone else has moved on and started eating lunch again? Answer: no one. So people break the rules. But I do not break the rules. I like boundaries. So on Tuesday morning, when I heard my family digging into a pre-sunrise breakfast, I stayed in my bed, coughing.

I tried to stay out of the way most of the day. I anticipated everyone would be wrangling to bite each other’s heads off – after all, that’s how I would feel if I was deprived of food. But the day was actually pretty normal. Sitting around. Chatting. Working around the house. As lunch time neared, I wondered if they were going to give me any food. Again, I really didn’t know what was going to happen – but I didn’t want to presume they were going to feed me. Plus, I knew that if I so much as mentioned food, they would bend over backwards making a meal, and I didn’t want any fasting person to have to deal with cooking a delicious meal and then giving it away. But as the day went on, I realized that I was not going to be fed, so I stuffed my face with some Pringles and laughing cow cheese alone in my room, a delicious recipe passed on to me by BETSY and lifestyle (forever alone) passed on to me by Nurse Sarah.

But the hurdles were not over yet. I’d been told that the hours between 5 and 7:30pm are especially rough, namely during the first few days of Ramadan, and people would probably prefer not to talk to me. So I tiptoed around, ready, again, to have my head bitten off, to no avail. Everyone was in a great mood.

When the sun goes down, usually around 7:45pm, everyone breaks the fast – in my mind, I imagined this happening with great fanfare and religious fervor, so I silenced my cell phone and sat quietly and attentively in the corner so as not to distract anyone from prayer. But, once again, I was wrong. Pre-rupture, everyone crowded around the TV to watch a comedy program. When it ended, the call to prayer went up and the food came out – AND DID IT COME OUT! Dates! Bread with chocolate spread! Spicy beef soup! Hot cocoa! It was at this point that I realized Ramadan had completely dismantled every expectation I had. Sure, it's a religious occasion, a time of reflection and introspection and prayer -- but it's also just part of life here. It was also at this point that I decided I LOVE RAMADAN. It only got better a few moments later when my host dad tried to murder a lizard with a paint roller and completely shattered all of the porch lights. Ramadan. It’s no different from other nights! The Senegalese are still intent on beating the shit out of every lizard they see, no matter the consequences!

So I haven’t fasted – some days, I’ve fasted in my own, cheap way by not eating lunch, but I always have my breakfast far after the sun comes up and drink water throughout the day. Lucky for me, my family seems to respect my views on fasting just as much as I respect theirs – when I semi-fasted on Friday, my host mom kind of freaked out and yelled, “Why? Why would you fast? You’re not Muslim! That’s crazy! Eat food!” I told her I was doing it in solidarity. She nearly fell over laughing and then offered to cook me some rice. Strangely, random strangers have been the ones to be aggressively hostile. So another myth debunked, at least in my experience: I’d been told that people are generally cool with whatever non-Muslims decide to do… but I’ve been harassed by people waiting in line at the market, guards at banks, and people who yell at me as I pass by on my bike. I’ve heard it might be a city thing, because my friends in villages seem to not cause any ripples.

In other guilt news, sometimes I feel a little weird breaking the fast with everyone after eating Pringles all day, but they know I’m eating Pringles all day and still enthusiastically encourage my participation, so I guess there’s no misunderstanding about what’s going on?

But I also love Ramadan because it’s just been a really great week with my family. Ramadan has changed up the daily rhythm of the house, and we’ve all ended up sitting and talking a lot more than usual. We’ve had some good chats about life and death (I’m not making that up!), I’ve been teaching my little sister some new games and the alphabet, and we had a nice little night watching Michael Jackson impersonators on TV coupled with an impromptu dance routine by me and my sister (SIDENOTE: WHY ARE MICHAEL JACKSON IMPERSONATORS A RECURRING THEME IN EVERY AFRICAN COUNTRY I VISIT? RIP MJ.)

So yeah. Ramadan! It’s been hard fending for myself in the food department and being deprived of filtered water at work, but my hardships are nothing compared to what everyone around me is doing. Also, side note #2: I hadn’t seen the ram that attacked me and had the vague hope that he might be in the soup we’d been eating every day. I was wrong, but I did get my host mom to tentatively agree that Tabaski will be my revenge aka WE WILL EAT HIM. There was no miscommunication. My host mom made pantomimed the ram attacking me and then pantomimed us eating him and said "Tabaski!" BOOM.

Girls' Camp!

I'm sitting in my office, waiting for Ramadan. I don't know when it's coming! So while I wait, I figured I would tell all y'all about the girls camp I'm going to be working with in a couple weeks!

I’m SUPER EXCITED ABOUT THIS! Notice my sudden use of exclamation marks and capital letters! No but really. I’ve probably alluded to how rough girls have it here in previous posts – and not to get on a soapbox, but the things you’d probably imagine are true: Young girls come home from school and do ALL of the housework, ALL of the cooking, and ALL of the heavy labor – they literally never rest. Then, they are often married around age 16 – even here in the city – and drop out of school. These facts weren't new to me -- I mean, I've read Newsweek since I was like 9 (thanks Dad!). But seeing this reality in almost every single girl I see still shocks me. The entire cycle is so much more widespread than I would have imagined. And it’s just so crazy for me to remember what my life was like at 12 or 13 – my only work was school, and after school, I’d do fun things, like gymnastics or track or drama club or making smoothies or just reading in my room. The girls here have no time like that. At all. And everything I've been doing for the past, what... eight years?... they never have a chance for any of it. Traveling, college, high school, random jobs, living in a city, doing nothing when I wanted, doing everything when I wanted -- the experiences that I consider to be the most valuable, the ones that really made me who I am, almost all of them just miss out on all of it. And for that reason – I am so excited to be part of an entire WEEK where they will get to just… be kids, and do camp things, like tie-dying and charades and games.

But if we play competitive games, I hope they are aware that I will win. Because I am not going to go easy on them.

That being said, the camp also does a lot of cool stuff like teach about nutrition, careers, and planting trees. Yeah for practicality! Woo! I think they’re having me lead the session about nutrition. Which is kind of hilarious, especially the lesson will involve us making moringa beignets. I support this! Moringa beignets ARE nutritious – they are full of vitamins and minerals! But they are also like donuts. I’ll be teaching about a food that is basically like eating a donut with a vitamin on top of it. Whatever, I’ll talk about the food pyramid too.

And IF you want to read more about the camp or donate toward it, you can do so here:

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=685-178

Word!