My Favorite Week in Senegal

My favorite week in Senegal?  Easy: the week that I go to our Thies Girls' Camp.  Last year's camp was the best week of my service, and I fully anticipate this year's camp (September 9-14) to be the same if not better.  I’ve mentioned the Michele Sylvester Scholarship program a few times on this blog already, and thanks to everyone’s support, I think I’ve met my fundraising goals for that.  But there is still a way to contribute to that group of amazing girls: 

Support our Thies Girls' Camp!

When I visited my scholarship winners over the past month, they were all grateful to hear that their school registration fees would be paid next year.  But they were all ECSTATIC to hear that they’d also be invited to their first-ever camp in September, which is the second thing they win when they're chosen.  These are all girls who spend their days cooking and cleaning to “make up for the fact that a family is letting them live in their house.”  The idea of having a fun week with other girls away from home kind of blows everything else out of the water.  Moreover, the Senegalese love camps - but few outside of a select group, typically those with money, ever have the chance to actually experience one.

Our camp is a mix of everything, dedicating different days to health, the environment, money management, and the FUTURE (their future, not the singularity).  Peace Corps volunteers lead sessions in our particular areas of expertise – I’ll be doing things like making spring rolls to talk about healthy eating and building hula hoops to emphasize the importance of exercise.  I'll also be helping with yoga, quietly, in the corner, just like last year.

  

Last year we surveyed the girls about yoga.  Almost all of them loved it.  One girl said that "cadaver pose" was her favorite activity from the entire camp... ha.

But our Senegalese friends and co-workers also facilitate a lot of activities.  For instance, we invite women to speak on a career panel about living and working in Senegal, and on another day, a local nurse comes in to answer their anonymously submitted health questions (it’s hard for them to know much about the body when science classes don’t even start until high school).  Ultimately, the girls learn a lot, but in true American education style, we make sure they have a lot of fun too: camp games, craft activities, variety shows, and movies are all part of the curriculum. 

Everyone responds to oatmeal masks in different ways, but dancing seems to bring out pretty universal emotions among Senegalese teenagers. 

But for me, the best part about camp is getting to know the girls.  It sounds crazy, but it’s hard to form good relationships with girls this age in everyday life, precisely for the reasons I’ve mentioned before: they are simply too busy, all the time.  It’s a Catch-22 – they’re the ones who need the most encouragement and support, the ones who constantly get the short end of the stick, but because they’re always sweeping, studying, cooking, or running around town doing errands, it’s hard to catch them for a minute and simply talk to them, get to know them.  

I'm especially excited to share camp with the girls I'll personally be inviting this year, aka my Michele Sylvester winners.  Almost all of them have lost at least one parent, and many are orphans living with extended family members... which, if you read the story of my "host sister" Fatamata, means that they miss out on a lot of perks and must work like crazy for their room and board.  Here's a little more about a few of them:

Mame

Mame is basically blind -- she has to read and do her homework with her face nearly pressed up against her books. She's that student who must always sit in the very, very, very front because her family can't afford the eye surgery she needs. But despite this, she was the most outgoing, excited, and talkative girls among my winners. She wants to be an engineer. 

Absa and Soda 

Absa and Soda are twins whose parents died within six months of each other in 2009. They have some of the best grades in the entire school and lofty ambitions: Absa wants to be a CEO and Soda wants to be a maternity nurse. Both girls have very strong opinions about the necessity of education in creating more powerful women in Senegal, but moreover, they are two of the humblest, loveliest, well-spoken teenagers I've ever met. When I visited their home, their great-aunt knelt down in front of me and thanked me for the opportunity I'm giving her nieces. 

Awa  

Awa is clearly one of the most popular girls in school, with good reason: she's quick, smart, and beautiful. But when I visited her home, it was obvious that she overcomes a lot each and every day... her family definitely struggles much more than others in the community, and they didn't seem very supportive of her achievements or plans. Awa told me she thinks all of the winners should start a girls' group after camp.

Khady 

Khady lives the farthest away of all the girls, making a 20 minute trek to and from school both in the morning and after lunch (the exercise wouldn't be so bad if it weren't 120 degrees a lot of days...). She is quick to help, has an endlessly positive outlook, and laughs at the drop of a hat. When I visited her family though, they made her work the whole time, and she didn't even get a chance to sit down with me. That was kind of depressing. 

Arame 

Arame confesses that her favorite pastime is reading, a hobby confirmed by her family: “Arame is always sitting with her books!” She lives on a huge compound of people, but seems especially close to her youngest cousin, who follows her around like a little duckling. Arame would like to be a lawyer someday, focusing on early marriage and the mistreatment of young girls by aunts and uncles. 

And, in a stroke of amazingness...

Fatamata 

Fatamata is the sister I wrote about in my previous blog post. I talked to my host mother, and after a little prodding, she'll get to attend our camp! There is absolutely no chance that the car will be too full to bring her at the last minute this time.

Here I am, sometime before I started making hats and eyeglasses out of paper last year during an art project.  If we're lucky, the past will recreate itself this September...

I hope all of you can help me in making this project a success.  It’s the LAST PROJECT I need funding for, so this is your last chance to work with me before I come back to AMERICA!  We’re hoping to get funded before July 31.  But without funding, the camp simply will not happen.  Which would be awful because I’ve already told the girls about it.  Not to guilt-trip anyone into donating.  But really, that would be awful.

I’ve seen firsthand how this camp can really enlighten and inspire these girls.  It’s only a week, but the girls keep in touch with each other, their counselors, and the Peace Corps volunteers long after camp ends.  One counselor has even used the knowledge he gained to start his own camp in his hometown.  All of these things make me really believe in this project.   

Please consider donating -- your money will be used to transport the girls, feed them, lodge them, and fund the weeks' activities, because other expenses, like paying our Senegalese counselors, have no fee -- they're volunteering for the week.  I've felt extremely fortunate for all of the support I've personally gotten over the past 15 months: emails, letters, packages, good thoughts, encouragement.  But here's your chance to help some other young ladies who need it more than me.  And if you can't personally help, maybe pass on the word to someone who can.

Donate to the Thies Girls Camp 2012

If you want more information about the camp, you can also check out the website we've put together here (http://campsenegirl.com).

Thanks for all of your time, support, and love :)

Love,

Lisa (and the other volunteers in my region and our future campers)

Thies Girls' Camp 2011 

Germany! (and a little Portugal)

So before my life gets too ahead of itself, I need to dedicate a little bit of space to Germany, one of the loveliest places I’ve ever visited.  Rather than boring you with a chronological account of my adventure, I will instead bore you with some of my favorite moments, what prompted them, and what their downfalls were.  Special thanks to Elizabeth Ruhl for holding my hand through all of them, either physically or spiritually... and for being a fabulous host to a lady exhausted, physically and spiritually, by her first year in the Peace Corps.

FAVORITE VACATION MOMENTS 

1. Realizing I was lost in a magical forest: One day, Elizabeth was kind enough to let me borrow her bike and explore her town, Erlangen.  I studied maps for about an hour and left the house thinking I had a good handle on the area.  I was lost within two blocks.  But I decided to just keep on riding!  At one point, I rode my bike onto a soccer field only to be chased off by a man in a truck.  When I asked him why I couldn’t be on the field, he looked at me and then said, “Because this is Germany.”  But being lost in a city isn’t nearly as fun as being lost in a magical forest, which happened after following what appeared to be “well-marked trails.”  They weren’t.  I ended up getting out with the help of a jolly old gentleman who then invited me to coffee and donuts. He told me he wanted to learn about Senegal.  Halfway into my donut, however, he had made one too many cryptic comments about marrying me, so I left.  And made it back to Elizabeth’s apartment!  All who wander are not lost.

2. Making myself lunch: It sounds so simple, but one of my first days in Germany, I went to the supermarket, bought a boatload of berries, asparagus, and cherry tomatoes, and proceeded to make myself a feast and cover it with feta cheese.  I then read The Hunger Games and listened to Neon Indian, the kind of music that seldom sounds right in Senegal.  And it was lovely.

3. Dancing on a table at Frulingsfest: Frulingsfest was everything I wanted it to be and more.  The festival itself was a glorified county fair, which as many people know, means I loved the shit out of it.  Gross carnival rides decorated with inappropriate old-timey paintings, operated by creepy men, meant to make you throw up as you breathe in the smells of fried food (or in Germany’s case, sausage).... it doesn’t get any better.  And the beer tent we hung out in was even better.  It was full of German people embracing their heritage, despite it only being noon, drinking pints of beer and singing along to a live band.  I spent the day making new friends and stuffing my face with chicken.  Before the day was over, I had thrusted my pint in the air numerous times to songs that I did not understand and danced on tables in my Senegalese dirndl.  I also rode a rollercoaster twice and did not vomit.  I am a winner.

4. The view from the top of Bamberg’s hill: One day, Sean and I decided to visit quaint, quaint Bamberg.  The jewel of Bamberg is a giant church nestled atop a hill, and we set out to see it.  As we walked through Bamburg, we slowly but steadily worked our way up, becoming (as is typical for me) lost in the process.  But we were rewarded with one of the prettiest views I’ve seen in Germany and one of the most beautiful churches I’ve seen in Europe.  As a Notre Dame gal, I like to consider myself a connosseiur of churches.  This one was fabulous.  The day ended with us eating fat kebabs at a fountain, getting directions from a friendly vacationing Indian man, and me getting mild pneumonia.  Germany!

5. Making it to the club in Berlin: After a public shaming because we used old student IDs to purchase movie tickets, Elizabeth and I tried to go clubbing.  We failed numerous times: trains stopped running, bus routes ended early, and even the random man to whom I offered a half-empty beer on the street seemed pissed off.  But after just deciding to stalk people who looked kind of cool, we found the cool Berlin scene.  And so we danced and danced and danced, which as anyone knows, is usually all I need for a good night.  When we stumbled out of that club at 6:30am, the sun was rising, so we had a graffiti photo shoot, ate chwarmas, and immediately started reminscing about the night’s already epic-ness.  I finally felt like a club kid, minus the MDMA.  This photo is not when I was drunkenly eating a chwarma, but it was taken in Berlin.  AT THE WALL!

6. Being trapped in a nudist field: One day in Munich, I decided to picnic in the city’s famed English Gardens.  I forgot that the English Gardens are famed for their nudist meadows.  I remembered when I found a nice area to set my blanket down in... and realized everyone in the near vicinity was naked.  Without trying to cause a scene, I gathered up my things and steadily headed toward the nearest escape, toward people in clothes.  But my stride was interrupted by a giant stream separated the nudists from the non-nudists.  So then I had to walk about 1km on the shore of the stream, where all of the naked people were, without trying to let them see how badly I wanted to escape.  A few of them flaunted their bodies at me.  They were all over the age of 50.  I eventually made it out, but unfortunately, I will always have the images of those human forms.  Forever.

Sorry, no nudie pics from this incident.  I was walking away too briskly.

7. Lunch with Linda: Another day in Germany, I made the controversial decision to go on a Third Reich Tour.  I worried that this tour would be full of Nazi enthusiasts, but I wanted to go for the historical aspect. When I showed up to the tour, I found myself surrounded by surly college students... and one brassy 63 year old woman named Linda!  Linda become my best friend for those 3 hours.  She had endless knowledge about Germany.  Her father had left Germany in 1926 and then returned to fight the Germans as a US Soldier in WWII.  She was on vacation visiting her East Germany cousins.  We went out to lunch together and she gave me inspirational advice about being a successful woman, such as, quit your corporate job if you don’t like it and open a Hallmark store!  No, but Linda was the shit.  And we had a traditional German lunch together... I hit all of the big Bavarian dishes. 

8. Napping in Lisbon: Lisbon was amazing. I love Portugal just as I love Spain – passionately, colorfully.  My love for Germany is just as strong, but different.  But Portugal made me feel alive, especially the view from the Lisbon Castle and the lovely seafood and red wine.  With a little time before my layover I ended, I wandered around some hilly areas of Lisbon, eventually settling on a non-dangerous ledge and falling asleep.  As I slept, a group of Portugeuse people spontaneously broke out into folk songs a few feet away.  I know travel is seldom authentic, but this felt real. 

9. Arriving at the Dakar Terminal in the Lisbon Airport:  And so then I got to the airport and rolled up to the Dakar Terminal.  A language I recognized, people I recognized, greetings I knew how to do.  My trip was over and I was headed back to one of my homes, and I felt ready.

So there you have it... my vacation in nine moments.  I recommend that everyone go to Germany!  It’s a fun, non-fussy place, and the only words you need to know are “fleisch,” “bier,” and “gannow.”  Then you’re set.

No, but really, thanks to everyone who helped me have a wonderful vacation there!  I’m sure I’ll be back someday.  But in the meantime... SENEGAL! 

And speaking of that, everyone should help make my region’s girls’ camp happen!  I think I met my goal for my scholarships, but you can still help ou that same group of girls here.  This is the last project I’ll need funding for, and you can donate here: 

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=685-211

A Cinderella Story

I recently went to Germany!  I will write about that wonderful vacation at a later time!  But I wanted to write about this now.

Last week, my host sister’s birthday passed by unannounced.  In a family where certain birthdays are celebrated with pizza deliveries, drinks, music, and store-bought cakes, this was less of a surprise than maybe it should have been.  Certain members of my family are certainly privileged more than others, and on some days, it’s still difficult for me to discern who gets what, and why. 

For example, most nights at dinner, we separate into two groups.  At one bowl, I sit with my host mother, host father, their grandchildren, and my cousin from France.  My other host sisters – girls who live at the house, somewhat distantly related to the main family – eat at the other bowl.  Sometimes our visitors eat at the first bowl, sometimes they eat at the second one.  And when my host mom’s daughter comes home on the weekends, she and her husband eat separately with their two children.  The daughter from her first marriage stays at the bowl with me, as usual.  The only method I can find to this madness is that maybe everyone invited to Bowl #1 contributes money to the house, while Bowl #2 is for those who give labor.  Because I certainly pay my share of rent, and the grandchildren and cousin have families that must pass on a lot of money to my host parents. 

But back to my forgotten host sister.  She eats at bowl #2.  Eating at bowl #2 also means you aren’t always invited to parties and family outings.  Or so I thought.  Until the other day, when everyone was preparing for a baptism party, and I saw that normally forgotten sister, Fatamata, getting her hair done alongside the grandkids.  “Are you going to the baptism?” I asked her, somewhat unable to hide my happy surprise.  She nodded, somewhat unable to hide her enthusiasm under her normally surly expression.  I watched her run around, giggling with the other girls going, dressing up in her fanciest clothes, trying on shoes, feeling important.

When it came time to leave, the whole family moved the car into the street and started piling in.  It was going to be a circus event for sure – nine people in a small five-seater.  I wondered how they were going to manage it.  And then my host parents found a solution: “Get out of the car, Fatamata.”  And with that, they drove away, literally leaving her in a cloud of dust.

I stared in disbelief.  They had literally just kicked her to the curb, without a thought.  Fatamata slowly slinked back to the house, her chin high, her usual stony expression back on her face.  She’s used to being treated this way by the family.  She hardly looked surprised, but I could tell she was disappointed.

I love my host family – I do.  And I know that they don’t think that how they treat Fatamata is anything but wonderful.  In Senegalese culture, when people open their homes to extended family members, simply giving them a roof and meals is seen as the highest form of generosity.  And to make up for that generosity, these kids – almost always girls – are expected to cook, to clean, to do the laundry, to do all of the manual labor, to do everything and watch the immediate family members get all sorts of things that they don’t.  It reminds me of Cinderella.

In the world I grew up in, children are told the Cinderella story and expected to learn empathy.  “The way the stepmother favors her own children over her stepdaughter Cinderella isn’t fair!” they say.  “She does all of the work and still has to live in a shoddy room with ratty clothes, while her stepsisters lounge all day in new things, forcing her to do their chores.”  But unlike how those kids react, I haven’t found many people who think this set-up is something worthy of changing in Senegal.  Cinderella used to be a typical, unchallenged way of life in our part of the world too.  I don’t know when the general opinion shifted it into fairytale territory.  But in Senegal, this is just the way it is.  Everybody knows and accepts it, especially Fatamata.

Almost all of the girls who won my Michele Sylvester Scholarships live with aunts, uncles, and extended family members.  I don’t know them well enough to know whether their lives are like Fatamata’s or not.  But I do know that one girl told me she wants to be a lawyer in the future so that she “can work to end the mistreatment of girls by their aunts.”  I’m pretty sure she, and most of the girls in my program, live that kind of life.  It also makes me think that some girls are starting to be angry about it, and rightfully so, in my opinion.

I know it’s far from my place to tell my family to treat all of the girls equally.  I know that even if I said something, they’d probably just laugh at me and think I was crazy.  But I can’t help the desire to make my other host sisters feel just as important as everyone at bowl #1, even if they don’t think they deserve the difference.