The Big Move

I'll make this email brief but do something fun... like include a link to pictures! Hopefully it works. Not all of them are real artistic masterpieces, but there are a few good ones that provide a little scenery, visual aid, and me in interesting outfits.

https://picasaweb.google.com/lisa.floran/SenegalPreServiceTrainingInThiesAndBayakh#

As of about 10 days ago, I am officially sworn in as a Peace Corps volunteer! They gave me a new ID card that says "VOLUNTEER" instead of "TRAINEE" to commemorate the occasion. We all had a fabulous day of eating crazy things like guacamole on bread and sausage on sticks and BROWNIES, and it was especially fun because everyone was dressed up absolutely ridiculously.

The day before, we had a reception with our training host families, which was also super fun. One of the other volunteers basically had the man version of my Princess Jasmine outfit, which prompted everyone to take pictures of us all day yelling about how we looked like the wedding scene from Aladdin. We were treated to a performance by some Pulah Futa performers, which felt like going to the Senegalese circus... except, things that are mere illusions at the American circus actually just really happened. LET ME ILLUSTRATE: at one point, one of the men threaded a string through his cheek. And he actually... was just doing it... and it was bleeding everywhere. Just stuck a pin through his mouth and his cheek and pulled a string through for 3 minutes. In the audience, all of the Americans were just staring, shocked and kind of frightened and confused, and all of the Senegalese were cheering because it was a feat of human strength... But there was also a lot of tumbling and dancing and drumming, and at one point, some of the volunteers in my stage did a fiddle/guitar/harmonica version of "Wagon Wheel" and then all the Senegalese performers joined in -- it was a beautiful moment of Americana crossed with Senegal!

But yes, as of last Monday, I have been living in my new place! It is just really great. The space, the family, and most of all, the newfound free time! My house is basically a guest house next door to a family. I have a living room, a bedroom, and my very own bathroom -- quite the luxury! I even... GET READY FOR THIS... have my own Western-style toilet? I don't know, I'm skeptical of whether it is actually going to work for 2 years, but we'll see. So I've spent a lot of the past week settling in, buying stuff like cots and drapes and giant trunks that small animals and insects cannot destroy.

And my family! They seem awesome. First of all, I feel super safe because my father is a gendarme, one of my... I don't know, nephews or something? is in the military, and my host sister is a nurse. The three youngest kids in the house are legitimately ADORABLE, and we've already had a few dance parties. There is also a 2 month old baby boy, which will continue to feed my need for having a baby around to hold on bad days. Everyone also just seems really respectful of me having my own space, which I think will be invaluable for the two years I'll be there.

I've slowly started going to my job, but I'm really not going to be working "full-time" per se for about two more months... until that point, I'm supposed to be settling into living my Senegalese life, practicing Wolof, and getting to know the people I'll be working with. I'm also catching up on all sorts of literature about previous projects my organization has done -- many of which are written in French, so it's kind of slow going.

It has also been kind of a hard week because on my first night in my new house, I received news that my Uncle Larry in South Bend had passed away after a battle with cancer. It's very strange to be in a place so far away from my family when everyone is going through a rough time. So any thoughts or prayers that anyone can pass along to my family right now would be appreciated.

But on the whole, I'm slowly adjusting here and feeling better every day. I have a bike that sometimes works, I found a place that sells giant delicious cream-filled donuts for about $1, and today I went to a Catholic church that had music like the soundtrack from The Lion King (will The Lion King be the recurring theme of my time here? WE SHALL SEE!). Wish me luck as I try to find the balance of doing lots of integrating while still trying to feel productive for the next few weeks... much love!

Turning 24 dressed as Jasmine

Peace Corps summer camp is finally ending… yesterday I had my final Wolof class, and I just finished my last oral exam (despite having oral exams every single semester for PLS in college, they still terrify me and I still always do not reach my potential but I think I passed so it’s okay!). But yes! That means that this Friday, we all truck out to Dakar to swear in as official volunteers with the U.S. ambassador to Senegal! And more importantly, we all finally get to wear our fabulous Senegalese outfits. It will be a RAINBOW OF FUN and include many headwraps and funny hats. I’ve named my outfit “Senegalese Barbie outfit” because it is rose pink with fuschia embroidery and I LOVE IT. Also of note: this ceremony will broadcast on Senegalese television. FAMOUS!

All of this means that I have ended my off-and-on stint with my training host family. They really ended things with a bang for me though! About two weeks ago, my host aunt finally had her baby! Yes… after weeks of false alarms where I would hear random screaming in the house and bust out of my room expecting to see a baby born, it finally happened and I didn’t even notice! I came home from school one day and she wasn’t looking too good… then two hours later, I emerge from my room and notice she’s gone. Everyone casually told me “Oh, she left.” It took 15 minutes of prying for them to reveal that SHE WENT TO THE HOSPITAL TO HAVE A BABY. Then, I’m not even kidding, TWENTY MINUTES later, my host mom comes home and is like, “Oh, Mbaccho had her baby.”

I was like ARE YOU SERIOUS? She was at the hospital for like 30 minutes! She ALREADY has a baby? I guess she was in labor like all day and they just took her to the hospital for the home stretch. But yay! Baby girl! I got to go see her when she was an hour old! Oh, and the kicker: I think they are naming the baby Lisa. Which is ridiculous and awesome and really intimidating. As I was holding this baby that may or may not be named after me (I feel sorry for a child that has to grow up in Senegal with an American name…), I felt a strange sense of responsibility, like how fatherhood is portrayed in the movies. Like I thought, I need to figure out my life, stop partying, get my shit together. I have a baby now.

Later in the week, my family threw a birthday party for me! It was fantastic. They gave me a beautiful white outfit and my friends unanimously decided that when I wear it, I look like Princess Jasmine in pajamas. So yeah, I have two outfits: Senegalese Barbie and Princess Jasmine. But all of the other volunteers in my town came over for a delicious dinner of count them THREE chickens, fries, salad, and bottled juice drinks set out in a circle, much like the birthday parties I used to have in elementary school. There was also dancing. It was super cute and lovely though, especially because no one celebrates birthdays in Senegal. The gesture by my host family was really, really sweet.

Other random tidbits:

- So Osama bin Laden died. I probably wouldn’t have known if my mom (AMERICAN MOM) hadn’t called me in the middle of the night… it was funny because she called because she was scared as I “am an American not in America.” I didn’t really know what the reaction in Senegal would be either, to be frank. But I found out as soon as I woke up: yeah, no one really cared. Also, no one believed me when I said he died. Senegalese Islam is very different from the Islam of the terrorist regimes.

- Also one time I was talking to my mom on the phone and someone was playing a fiddle in the background and she thought it was the call to prayer. I love her.

- We played a soccer game against our teachers a few weeks ago and only lost by one! That’s not bad for a group of Americans versus 20-30 something Senegalese men! And I hit the ball with my head (is that a header? I’ve never played soccer.) I WAS PROUD OF MYSELF AND OUR TEAM.

- We also had a little beach weekend! It was beautiful and someday I will upload pictures. No but seriously. I don’t know if I’ve ever been to a beach with a view free of giant industries or smoke stacks or civilization. Gorgeous.

Yes, but I am excited to finally install as a volunteer here. Yesterday, I visited my possible home and new family… nothing is set in stone yet, but if I end up living there with them, I think I will have a pretty great set-up. And right now, the volunteer I’ll be working with for my first few months is doing a needs assessment with the youth groups I’ll be working with them. She’s interviewing them to see what information they’re lacking so we know what to build our curriculum around. I’ll probably spend my first few weeks buying stuff for my house, getting to know my neighbors, practicing my wolof, and attempting to work at this office in my third language. But I am ready!

Also, I just wanted to thank everyone that’s been dropping me notes and emails and letters and well-wishes, birthday ones or otherwise. I definitely have had some rough days, and it means a lot to hear from yall (even if you don’t hear back, because my internet time comes in weird waves and it’s hard to respond.)

Ana Lac Rose???

Ahh! So the last few weeks, and in particular, the last few days have been a little bit crazy, but mostly in good ways! We have about two weeks left in our training and everyone is feeling a lot more comfortable with the language, the people, and our life routines here in general, so things are going well.

I spent one week in Thies living with a current volunteer and visiting my future office every day. We had a few excursions out to the groups that I’ll be working with on health and life skills curriculums – in our fancy US AID landrovers… yes… I am going to be living a very fancy ex-pat life, at least while I’m at work. But everyone seems really great in my office. I also got to tour magnificent Thies, and do fun things like watch my host haggle with taxi drivers and buy second hand clothing on the streets… THIS WILL BE MY SENEGALESE PROBLEM I CAN ALREADY TELL. The thrifty shopper in me will not be dying here. I found a fantastic pink dress for a dollar – BOOM!

Speaking of that dress, I was so excited to wear it the other day when I went back to the village… UNTIL MY SIX YEAR OLD HOST SISTER PEED ON IT. So that was sad. But I washed it (by myself, in my bedroom, because I can do that!), and managed to wear it to yet another baptism a few days later. This was yet another party where I had the opportunity to drive with my host mother. She, as always, outdid herself with the car once again… we kept picking up more and more fancily dressed women from the side of the road until I was practically hanging out the passenger side window, then we went deep into the bush. Then the car started smoking so we had to pull over in the middle of nowhere, a bunch of fancy women stranded on the side of the road. You can’t call AAA in Senegal! Luckily my host mom is a modern woman. Very handy, that one.

I had one moment that made me really happy at that baptism – some people were asking my background, and when I answered that I was in the Peace Corps, one lady said, “I knew she was in the Peace Corps. She came in and started dancing and speaking Wolof! Peace Corps.”

But by far my favorite Senegalese adventure (THUS FAR) happened on Easter Sunday! The five other volunteers in my training village and I decided we were going to try our first solo excursion, braving the Senegalese transportation system without any Senegalese to help us. We chose to go Lac Rose, which, according to what we had heard, was a massively awesome tourist destination: hotels! Restuarants! Beaches! Camel rides! And a pink saltwater lac that you can float in like the Dead Sea! It’s like a toubab paradise!

So after befriending some gendarmerie/police officers and fending off a enterprising taxi driver trying to rip us off hardcore, we manage to get a good price for our first car: a gutted livestock car painted blue, yellow, and red. It was gorgeous! But it could only take us halfway. And apparently, the first enterprising taxi driver REALLY wanted to take us to the lake in his car, so he had followed us to the halfway point and we haggled him down and decided to reward his persistence. MISTAKE. We proceeded down some sketchy back roads, 7 people stuffed into a little Toyota, at 10mph, while the driver repeatedly looked out the window of his car, presumably to check and make sure his tire was still attached to the car. We were all trying to play it cool and roll with the situation – but it kept getting a little weirder and weirder. For instance, he would just stop at random points and get out of the car and not answer our questions and we were just NOT seeing the lake! So at his fourth unprompted exit, my friend Cady just kind of says, trying to exude authority and control except it actually came out kind of scared and desperate, “ANA LAC ROSE???” which translates to “WHERE IS LAKE ROSE?” The driver didn’t answer. He just walked away.

But I am still alive! And eventually another random van drove by and even though the doors didn’t work, the driver was super nice and agreed to take us the rest of the way to the lake for free, at like 60mph! So within 2 minutes, we finally saw the pinkish except it was actually more like brownish lake! Yay! Excitement! We did it!

But then the unmarked van just stopped at an unmarked shack and told us to get out. WHERE WERE THE RESTAURANTS? Where were the HOTELS? Where were the CAMELS? Where were ALL OF THE OTHER TOURISTS? The van said this was Lac Rose and drove away. WHAT? WHAT? EASTER WAS CRAZY.

We ended up finally finding the touristy part of the lake after walking for about a mile and a half, and the beach that we found was actually just really great. It ended up being a fun little girls’ day, complete with donuts and drinks for one girl’s birthday. And we all floated in the salt water lake because you can do that in heavy salt water! Also, there was a group of middle aged French men wearing camoflauged army fatigue hot pants, so that was just entertaining.

On our way home, we were talking about how great our day was, how we really did it – we spoke in Wolof and made it to our destination and had fun along the way – and how we wanted to call up our safety and security coordinator and brag. It was at this exact moment that our unmarked van hit a sandy pot hole and died.

And that was the moment that I assisted in pushing an unmarked van out of a sandy pothole in Senegal and saving a car full of intergrated Peace Corps volunteers and Senegalese from being stuck in the bush forever.

Anyway, it was great! Today we planted 2000 trees and last night we had a dance party in the disco hut and discovered the identity of a mysterious animal that chased one girl through our training center and caused her to break her ankle. Things are fun around here! T-minus 3 weeks until training ends! I hope everyone is having a lovely spring… I think about y’all all the time and miss a lot about America and the people I love a lot. Keep in touch!

My Destiny and A Baptism.

Oh and here are some pictures I stole from my friend Jenn! At the top is a map we painted of Senegal at a school. Yay! And above is our garden, before things started growing in it. I'm on the left, by the intense door that my language teacher built with his bare hands to ward off the goats.

Anyway!

In the words of my host mother, it’s time for all of you to adjust your vision of me in Africa. Last week, with great fanfare and a Senegalese television station documenting us (particularly me, at least if what my language teacher says is true), our sites were announced! The Peace Corps blindfolds us and then arranges us on a giant map of Senegal. We rip off our blindfolds and discover our destinies! When I was blindly led to my spot, I stood there for awhile and didn’t really hear anyone near me. I was like, what is going on. Where am I. Am I in the middle of the ocean? Am I in The Gambia? Am I being sent back to America? I could hear lots of people whispering to people around them, touching them. I stuck both of my arms straight out and spun around in a circle trying to see if anyone was within some sort of radius. I TOUCHED NO ONE. When we finally ripped off our blindfolds… I was in the city I am currently in. The Senegalese Paradise city of Thies! And I was all alone. Needless to say, I was confused and shocked… I had prepared myself for all sorts of scenarios and corners of the country, but hadn’t really considered the possibility that I wouldn’t be leaving where I was.

But this is my destiny! Thies! And after a healthy session mourning the visions I had for rural village life, I actually got really excited about my site. The Peace Corps guidebook describes my area as a place where people appreciate the finer things of life… so I can get used to that. I mean, this is the place where I’ve been indulging in margaritas and cheese. And it’s pretty awesome that I’m going to be working with an NGO. I’m going to be visiting my job site this week to learn more about it, but from what I can gather, I’m working with a life skills/health/economic empowerment program aimed at teenagers and young adults at Plan International. I’m about an hour and a half from Dakar, a hop skip and a jump from the ocean, and my area is the most temperate and full of vegetables in the whole country. So yeah, I started by feeling spoiled with my ritzy homestay family, and it looks like I may continue to be spoiled for the next few years. I wish my fellow volunteers the best of luck as they go on their 5-12 hour bus rides to their sites tomorrow… I’ll be here J

In other news, I went to a baptism this weekend! It was bizarre because no one really seemed to pay attention or talk to me, and yet they made me hold the baby for TWO HOURS. I’m not even kidding. I was just sitting in a corner, everyone was pretending not to look at me, and then they brought the guest of honor over and had me hold her. Baby Fatou, 2 weeks old. Then they all just went and chatted some more. At one point, I tried to pass the baby along… they just brought it back to me and said, “NO. Hold the baby.” And then walked away. No pictures of me with the baby. No fuss over how funny it was for me to hold the baby. No asking what my name even was. Just… baby. Here. Here’s the baby. There were like a good 300 people at this party. On our way home from the party, my host mom drove the car into a giant sand dune and we got stuck for awhile. It was kind of like when we get cars stuck in the snow – she was mildly annoyed, but luckily an entire village emerged to help us get the car out. But not before five more kids had smacked me upside the head through the open car window and then escaped into the darkness. I’m telling you, one day I will get my revenge on these little rascals. ONE DAY.

Alright well I’m going to get back to laying around for a few more hours until the heat dies down. This past Saturday, the heat started. It was like someone opened a door at noon: a huge, hot gust of wind ripped through the whole country, and everyone I’ve talked to felt it. HOT SEASON BEGINS! I’m a lover, not a fighter, so I’m not going to fight it. I’m just going to evade it. Ciao!

Village Notes, A Whirlwind

So first things first: it turns out that my name has multiple spellings. So sometimes it is Khady, but sometimes… it is XADI. I’m sorry, but that is awesome. My name starts with an X. Like Xena.

I just finished up a long two week stint with my host family. I’ve slowly learned more about them, but a lot of information I thought I understood at first is now under scrutiny. For instance, the other day my host mother urged me to read a letter she found in her living room. It was dated from 1997, addressed to my host father, and the writer said a lot of unsavory things about who I assume is my host mother? I could not for the life of me figure out…

a) if this letter was about my host mother

b) if my father secretly has a second wife somewhere else and the letter was about her

c) if my host mother can read French and even knows what this letter said

d) why I was being so happily encouraged to read the letter, despite my repeated asking of, “Prive? Prive? Is this private?”

But I can’t imagine a world where my host father has a second wife. My host parents flirt with each other all the time and they cuddle together on the couch, which is shocking for a culture where men and women often don't even eat dinner in the same room. My host mother, Yacine, as is usual with my African host family experiences, is a trip. She loves watching the popular “Indian” soap opera – I use quotes because this show is actually made in Italy with Italians dressed up as Indians, dubbed in French, and probably only shown in Senegal. A lot of the Indian culture seems to be lost in this design, not to mention the fact that they stretch five minutes of storyline into an hour by using the same shots from seven different angles in a row. But my host mom – yeah, she is the only lady I’ve seen in town who drives a car. And drive she does! The other day, she decided to take me to visit my grandmother, despite my reminders that I had to be home to catch a bus in an hour. So Yacine took control of the situation. We were FLYING down roads, back and forth across the width of the road as is the Senegalese way in order to avoid pot holes, skidding through gravel, and, of course, screeching to a stop every 4 minutes when she saw someone she knew. Because it’s rude to keep driving when you should be greeting your friends and second cousins of your father's uncle on the side of the road. But bless Yacine, we made it to grandma’s house and back in record time, and I even had time to eat my fabulous lunch of fried chicken, rice, and vegetables before the bus came. Granted, this was the one day that I was not given a spoon, but forced to eat in the traditional way, with my hand. But I did it! And it was delicious, licking every last bit from my fingertips when I finished. It’s not rude to do that here. BOOM!

I originally had the impression that my father worked in the fabric industry in Italy. I have since learned that duh, “fabrique” means that he builds buildings… not textiles. But yes, on Monday, my host father left for 8 months in Italy. A lot of the men in my extended family all work in Italy and send money home to support everyone. I imagine it’s a pretty lucrative job because it must suck not seeing their families for such long periods of time. One of my host brothers has been in Italy for 10 years without being able to come back to Senegal, due to what I assume is a visa issue.

In other news, the baby likes me now! Yes!

And speaking of pleasant surprises, I am continuously astounded by my lack of stomach issues with the food here. My diet primarily consists of white bread (about 1 baguette a day), white rice, vegetables fried in excessive amounts of oil, and SUGAR. What does it say about my physical health if I have experienced no problems in adjusting to this? I can’t decide if my body is just really strong or just really used to this type of abuse. But whatever. I like bread and sugar and fried foods. So good times.

In Peace Corps news, we’ve embarked on a few trial projects over the past two weeks – small tastes of projects and the work we will eventually do once our stint as trainees ends and our 2 year volunteer part begins. So we painted a map of Senegal at a local school – I was the genius who misspelled a regional name and wrote things in English instead of the national language of French, but paint can always be reapplied to cover up mistakes! We also made a fabulous mural consisting of a bowl of water, a bar of soap, and a magical arm not connected to a body in order to encourage hand washing. We’ve continued working on our garden and built a fence around it. We also visited the local health post to help with baby weighings and polio vaccinations. The baby weighing session is one way they screen kids for malnutrition here. I was asked to debrief some of the mothers after the weighing about breastfeeding – due to my lack of language skills, this “talk” basically devolved into me pantomiming breastfeeding in front of a crowded room. I had a similarly humbling experience during the vaccination sessions when a group of unruly elementary school children decided to follow me for 45 minutes, repeatedly slapping my arms and running away. From what I can gather, children in Senegal suffer crippling levels of MOB MENTALITY. Over the course of the next two years, I hope to at least find a way to make them stop hitting me.

Another interesting aspect of Senegalese culture is their belief that everything should be shared. Our group first observed this concept when a mob of unruly children (I’m telling you, the mobs are everywhere) ran in front of our bus in the middle of the road until we stopped and our language teacher gave them money. To me, it was like an impromptu toll road by terrorists, and my language teacher let the terrorists win. He later explained that everyone just gives everyone else stuff. So yeah, people just ask for all of my stuff all the time. Most of the time I just roll with it. I mean, I don’t give them my stuff, but it doesn't really bother me. But sometimes my host brothers see me with bananas or oranges... and they’re like, “Give me that.” So I’ve taken to giving them whatever else is in my hand at the time, and running away before they can clarify what they wanted. Sharing! Integrating!

I also discovered a great way to deal with my occasional language frustrations: try to teach my host family how to say something in English. When they try to say "How is your family?" in English and still can't quite get it after 10 minutes, I think we all feel better about my language struggles, empathy on their part and pride on mine.

Currently, I’m back at the training center for a few days. On Thursday, we all find out where we’ll be living for two years, so it should be a pretty exciting day! I actually had the fabulous opportunity to go to dinner at a French-like restaurant last night and indulged in 4 courses of desserts and a margarita – things that I didn’t expect to see until 2013, so that was a pleasant surprise.

Hmm other things!

- Senegal won their first soccer match of the year, against the horrible, smelly, no good Cameroon! Yay! Dancing in the streets!

- My family’s favorite wrestler won his big match on Sunday! Yay! More dancing in the streets!

- My family gets a music video channel that plays excessive amounts of Justin Timberlake and Rhianna! Yay! Lisa teaching them American dance!

- The other night I couldn’t sleep because it sounded like someone was breathing in my room. I eventually deduced that a goat and/or human was sleeping outside in the courtyard under my window.

- One day we went to my grandmother’s house and she gave us mangos and rabbits. I just got in the car to leave and there were rabbits in the backseat. I still don’t know what the rabbits were for. We didn’t eat them… YET. I don’t feel like there is a big market for rabbit fur in Senegal?

- I visited a Catholic monastery last weekend! They sell goat cheese.

- Tomorrow night I am going to watch The Lion King! In Africa! It should be very poignant.

- I really enjoy using the phrase “the village people” to describe the people in my village

I hope everyone is doing well. Wish me luck as I head into these next few weeks… I’ll not only be finding out my SENEGALESE FUTURE, but also doing a brief visit to my future village for about 5 days. Let’s hope my sanity and stomach continue to serve me well. Ciao loves! Keep in touch!

Khadi in the house!

Okay, now I’m really in Senegal!

I have a new family. I have a new name. I have eaten from the communal bowl. Goats live on my roof. This is real. THIS IS REAL.

So I just got back from my first week with my Senegalese host family – it was a whirlwind, but I feel super lucky and fortunate. My family is great in every sense of the word: welcoming, huge, hospitable, and the fact that I have my very own bathroom and eat a variety of vegetables with meals is pretty awesome. We had French fries the first night? YES WE DID. A lot of volunteers in other houses eat with entire families out of one bowl for meals, but for most of my meals, I eat with my just parents. Basically that means that I get a lot more food and a lot less chance of getting sick. So that’s a super lucky break too, for the moment. In fact, I’m almost worried that I’m going to be spoiled and not ready for my impending village life, where I could end up in a mudhut without a latrine in the middle of Senegal. Right now, things are cushy.

My new name is Khadi, which sounds like Haddi, or maybe HOTTIE, which I’ve been trying to have catch on (it hasn't.) I’m super jealous of another volunteer who got renamed Fatou and has the Senegalese nickname of FATTIE. It seems that every volunteer is named after another name of the family, and I am no exception: I’m named after one of my host sisters. I really love this host sister and I love sharing my name with her – but then again, she is also the person who does the majority of the housework, cooking, breaking up children’s fights, etc. As a result, people are screaming her name constantly all around the house. Add to that fact that the second most popular person that people yell for is my host brother, HADIM… and it’s just like a Haddi party in the house, all the time. It’s all you hear. Haddi! Haddim! Haddi! Haddim!

I have about 15 people in my house, of varying ages and speaking abilities. I spend the morning talking to my 18 year old host sister, mixing French with Wolof and feeling pretty good about myself. Then I go talk to the 6 year olds and they just stare at me. You know you’re not saying anything right if a 6 year old stares at you. But then I’ll finally pronounce something correctly and the 6 year old will respond! And then I’ll go upstairs and listen to my host mom and dad speak and again feel like I UNDERSTAND NOTHING BECAUSE MY LANGUAGE SKILLS ARE THE EQUIVALENT OF A 10 MONTH OLD. In other family news, I have a 1 year old sister who screams bloody murder every time she sees my deathly white face. Apparently, Senegalese children grow up being told that the evil spirits of the world are white. But sometimes I dance with the baby and instead of crying, she just crawls away and makes frightened noises. I call this progress.

Speaking of the language I’m learning, Wolof has provided some pretty hilarious moments. For example, the fact that the word for ‘yes’ sounds like ‘WOW!’ consistently brings me joy. It just makes everyone sound excited and positive all the time! And sometimes I forget that it means yes and just think I’m really speaking awesome Wolof because my teacher will listen to me, smile really big, and then exclaim, “WOW!” Someone in my class was trying to say that someone threw up on her foot the other day and accidentally said she threw up on an ethnic group from Mali. But slowly, slowly, my little group and I are starting to mumble through communicating in WOLOF! WOW!

I have run into my fair share of cultural misunderstandings as well. On my first day, my family asked me if I wanted white bread with butter or chocolate. I didn’t want to be picky and annoying, so I tried to say either. I was given an entire baguette slathered in butter and chocolate, as well as a cup of milk with NOT EVEN JOKING AN ENTIRE 2 CUPS OF SUGAR in it (oh, how I laugh at the days when I used to worry how I would handle my sugar addiction in the Peace Corps...) But yeah, fatty mcfat sugar cup was assumed to be my natural breakfast, so I got it again the next day. And the next day. It took my speaking skills awhile to reach the point where I could express that I needed a different breakfast or I WOULD DIE SOON. But things are cool now. Also, one night, I got invited to a party at another family’s house. I was all excited, talking about it all day, inviting other volunteers. I don’t have a lot of vocabulary, so since I knew how to say, “We’re going to Mbaccho’s house tonight!”, I said it about every 5 minutes, rephrasing it as a question and then as a statement repeatedly. So after all that anticipation, the party finally happens… and it turns out this isn’t even a party, my family just wanted me and another volunteer to have a dance-off in a circle while everyone else watched. THAT IS NOT A PARTY, THAT IS A CIRCUS! The scheduled dance-off didn’t happen, but my family has enjoyed me teaching them ballet, “American dance” aka my moves from the club aka my hips, and Ugandan dance.

We’ve had a few days back in Senegalese paradise now, and I took advantage by attempting to play soccer with some locals and other volunteers. At one point the ball was coming toward me and I got kind of freaked out and just fell over backwards. I don’t know, I don’t think soccer is really going to be my "thing." But yes, tomorrow, I return to my village and my family, hopefully to become incredibly fluent in Wolof and become an expert through experience on Senegalese culture! Or you know, just be able to say something like, “I am not your dancing monkey!”

I love you guys! Perhaps I’ll have some more stories in two weeks, when I have internet again… ha.

Love,

Lisa

Senegalese PARADISE

Hello all!

I'm here! I made it! Our first two days were at the Georgetown Holiday Inn, sleeping in exceptionally comfortable beds and taking ridiculously hot showers. Many of you will be pleased to hear I have already continued my string of awkward first impressions with my Peace Corps group here. One of our ice breakers included a skit about rules and regulations, and my theatrical contribution involved me being the "PEACE CORPS EXPECTATIONS FAIRY." And obviously, that was my voluntary addition to the skit. So I think that's who I am to most people here now. But that's okay. I'm sure each of you have your own special stories about the first time you met me also. And we're still friends. Right? Right? Anyway.


After a sleepless flight where I had the opportunity to watch both "Burlesque" starring Christina Aguilera and Cher and "Kate and Wills: A Royal Love Story," I finally arrived in this paradise land. And it is a paradise, at least at the moment! We boarded onto Peace Corps buses upon exiting the airport and wound our way through Dakar and the surrounding cities. Everything reminded me of Uganda, except signs were written in French, so everything just seems more EXOTIC and EXCITING! And I couldn't help but be overcome with African memories when I smelled that distinct scent of burning trash in the air. I'm BACK!

But seriously, perhaps it was my sleep deprived delirium or an effect of the (DELICIOUS WAY TO GO SOUTH AFRICAN AIR) airline food, but as we drove beneath the sunrise, I was overwhelmed with the feeling that I was in exactly the right place doing exactly what I need to be doing. Not in an overarching destiny sense really, but definitely in the sense that this is exactly what I want to do right now.

I fully acknowledge that these feelings may change at any moment.

BUT the feelings of goodness and happiness and love were supplanted today at the Peace Corps Training Center in Thies, aka SENEGALESE PARADISE! We spent the morning lounging in the perfect combination of gentle heat and a light breeze in a giant gazebo, occasionally taking breaks to do things like play beach volleyball or have an hour long drum and dance session with all of our teachers and local children or eat delicious food that contains no threat of dangerous parasites. SENEGALESE. PARADISE.

I mean, I am very aware that I am experiencing a "honeymoon phase" and these feelings may change at any moment to something boring and routine, like the second year of marriage, or 7th grade. But in the words of the noble Michael Kaiser, I AM GOING TO MAKE MY HONEYMOON LAST AS LONG AS I CAN. In Senegalese Paradise.

So basically, I made it to Senegal. I made weight on my bags and made it on the plane and didn't miss the bus and even received vaccinations with a smile this morning. Everyone here with me seems really fun and cool, and hey, they have not ostracized me after my first impression being "I'm the Peace Corps Core Expectations Fairy!", so I mean, good people. The next few days look to be filled with gentle adjustment, lots of downtime, and starting to learn things in a classroom like setting.

So I'm going to get back to sitting in my giant gazebo. Did I mention that this gazebo, the centerpiece of our compound, is legitimately named "The Disco Hut?" Yes. More validation that fate brought me to the correct country.

Love you all! Here is my address for things... send me yours! And I'm also posting these on my blog, there are some older (irrelevent because I wasn't in Senegal) entries there. Its address is lisadidwhat.blogspot.com



Address for first 8 weeks of training (aprox. 3-9-11 through 5-9-11)
Lisa Floran

Corps de la Paix

B.P. 299

Thies, Senegal

West Africa



I would end this note with a typical Senegalese greeting but I'm trying not to become a Senegalese culture tool... yet. So instead, I'll just say SENEGALESE PARADISE!

love,
Lisa