Village across the street--update two

Over the past month, the group of people (at least two families) directly across the street, built a new larger shed--using the wood savaged from next door--and then painting it turquoise! I especially like how one of the men pulled the bougainvillea flowers over the top of the other shed just to the left of the turquoise one. I watched him do it carefully because of the thorns.

In an earlier post, I wrote about the family that lived to the left of the little village directly across the street. They had suddenly departed. In the second photo you can see the empty lot--even the last shed in the back was taken down eventually.

Much activity across the street. Water jugs filled, I think they use the water from our building, as I have seen them leave the garage with the jugs. Sometimes wood or stones are piled up in front--and then moved somewhere else. Cooking seems to done in the back, right area.

When I leave in the morning it is not unusual to see one or two of the children washing up or brushing their teeth. The woman who uses the hand-crank wheelchair/tricycle, is often leaving for the day, when I take Parami out in the morning. The younger daughter rides on the back and the older girl walks beside or pushes from the back.

Christmas eve I walked over and gave the little girls a bracelet each and some chocolate chip cookies I had made. They all knew a few words of French and thanked me, not coming too close because I had the dogs with me. All the kids seem to be rather frightened of dogs. I should have gone without the dogs. Next time.

The people in my neighborhood

A block from my apartment building is this intersection. I'm standing in front of the local restaurant, Le Regal, near where the taxis park, across the street from the ATM machine where I get local currency from my Cambridge account. I'm paid in dollars, direct deposit to my Cambridge bank. It is amazing how some things circulate globe, while others things are so difficult to transfer, move across boundaries or to translate.

I love the colorful buses, with people hanging out the back. I am often surprised that every taxi ride has gotten me where I am going. The cabs are in such bad shape; the doors barely close, the windshields are so covered with cracks that you can barely see out of them. They spew black smoke out the back and shock absorbers don't exist. Occasionally a newer cab, in good condition stops for me, and I find it harder to bargain the price down.



















The picture on the left is the local Starbucks--I see him every morning when I walk Parami. He walks around with the little coal heater and selling little cups of coffee to the security guards who sit out in front of all the buildings. Nearby is the laitrie (dairy) where they make fresh yogurt.
I've never bought meat at the meat store--when I walked by, I have to restrain Parami who is very interest!

On either side of the meat store are fruit and vegetable stalls. The fruit and vegetables are never combined. There are stalls at almost every corner through out the neighborhoods on the main streets. I always ask before taking any pictures. And so far everyone has been very willing. The "starbucks" guy even had me wait while he posed for me, pouring a cup. I happened to have my camera that morning, but he wasn't wearing his typical outfit, a very colorful shirt/tunic of wide stripes. I printed out the picture and gave it to him, saying that I would do another one when he had his other shirt on. I promised the same thing to the fruit and vegetable sellers--that I would give them the pictures I am talking.

As my French has improved, I have started using some Wolof, which I have picked up. Wolof is the most common language in Dakar, but there are six national languages in Senegal. Most people grow up speaking at least 3 languages--two indigenous languages and French. I have noticed how much friendlier people are when I greet them in Wolof--na nga def or thank them with jai-rruh-jef. And when saying goodby and see you tomorrow, you add "in sha' Allah" God willing.

Debra is holding Parami. Debra teaches 6th grade, and has a small dog of her own. We trade dog sitting, I have Raffi during the winter break. Debra is from Calgary, Canada and love the climate in Dakar. Randi and Tod, also 6th grade teacher, have the apt across the hall from me--their apt has a nice little balcony for sitting outside. This is their second year in Dakar and they took me under their wings when I first arrived--showing me around and including me in excursions. Parami adores Tod, every time we go next door, Parami charges in and runs around until he finds Tod and jumps up on his lap. Tod has signed up for a third year at ISD, however Randi says she is moving back to the states because her job as a nurse with the Peace Corps is coming to an end and she does not want to work as a nurse at any of the local hospitals. Tod loves diving at the beach nearby--he goes out almost weekend. He has gotten to know the divers and fishermen and their associations. He maintains his own blog, I don't know how he keeps up with as frequently as he does, he posts underwater video footage, which I love looking at. You can check it out at http://lariamdreams.blogspot.com.

lac rose

Sunday, December 13, 2009, 10 of us drove, in two cars, to lac rose along the beach. The drive by the road can take hours because of the traffic. The lead car, driven by Mike, had done this trip before--once going all the way to St. Louis by driving on the beach--making it a much shorter trip.

I was in the second car, driven by Crystal, also a new teacher this year. She is originally from Seattle, most recently taught in Scotland. She bought a 19 year old Toyota with four wheel drive, when she came to Dakar. Mike told her how to let the air out of the tires, and how to put it into 4-wheel drive. We got onto the beach north of Dakar, near a neighborhood called Yoff. Yoff is a more conservative neighborhood and there are no women on the beach along here.















But there were lots of soccer games all along the beach as we started out--sometimes forcing us into the edge of the surf. Mike warned us to drive slowly past the games. He told us not to stop, even though people would wave at us to stop. Once we passed the soccer players, we could speed up, as there were only a few people on the beach. And at times it was totally deserted.

There were people bringing their sheep down to the water to wash them--we also saw a donkey getting a bath. You could see that the sheep didn't care for it--as they had to be dragged into the water.



It took about 40 minutes to get to the place where we turn off the beach and headed over the sand dunes to lac rose.

We were glad to follow Mike, we would have never known where to turn off. There are no signs. The sand was much softer here and the hills a challenge to the car. We did a few switchback to make it up the hill.

The tourist companies advertise lac rose as Senegal's answer to the Dead Sea. The lake is also famous because the annual Paris-Dakar motor rally traditionally finished at the lake. The race has been held in south america for the last two years because of political instability in some of the Africa countries the race has passed through. You can read more about it on wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dakar_Rally





The lake is a shallow lagoon 10 times saltier than the ocean. It is known for its pink hue when the sun is high, and the color is suppose to be more pronounced in the winter, during the dry season. It did not look that pink to me. I have added the two photos that look the most pink to me.

On the south side of the lake is an area called Niaga-Peul, where local people go out to collect salt from the water. The lake is shallow, so they wade out and use digging tools to scrape the salt off the like bed. Below are the boats they load up with salt.










































Seller by the roadside--I must have offered a good price for the necklaces I bought--because they were happy to have me take their photos, without asking for more money, and they gave been several bracelets--as "cadeaux". Next to the women selling jewelery were men selling sand art, similar to the ones I saw on Goree Island.
I also bought two dolls to add to my international doll collection.



















We left the sellers behind and headed into the little village, with its little mosque in the center. We ate lunch at a restaurant right on the lake. I had a brochette of grilled giant shrimp--delicious!

Here are four women from our group, 2 teachers, one a friend of Mike & Devon's visiting from Oregon, and the other woman, someone that Mike had just met and invited to come along for the day. There was a sightseeing boat that arrived with a group of Christian Senegalese women--what a contrast their colorful outfits are compared to the drab Americans!




We got a late start back, leaving about the time we had planned to be back--an example of living in African time. On the way back, we experienced some car problems. The car would jerk and cough and stall out. Luckily we were with the other car, otherwise, we could have really been stranded. We telephoned the other car, at first there were no bars, but finally contacted them. Mike had an Israeli friend who knew about car and driving on the beach. He called him for a consult. He said it might be wet spark plugs or air filter. The plugs were dry--so we took off the air filter. There wasn't much water in it but the car drove better. He said, just make sure you stay out of the water and we continued on our way. I think the air filter could have been clogged with sand. I doubt that it was very good for the engine, but we made it back. When we left the beach we drove past touristy beach area--with the thatched umbrellas. We managed to get passed the cattle on the road by driving around them something we could only do with an SUV. Most of you know how much I hate SUV's but I have a new respect for them and understand why they are needed for some types of driving.
As we returned to the city, we stopped at a gas station to add air to the tires and put the air filter back on. Devon then told us the hazards of driving the beach route. Several years ago, 3 cars were driving together up the beach route when they stopped because fishing nets had been stretched across the way. When they stopped men attacked the cars and they were robbed.
I glad I heard that story afterwards--not before--and understood why Mike said not to stop.

A visit to a Marabout

Saturday, December 5, I drove with four other people connected with the school, Tod (6th grade teacher) and Randi (a nurse with the peace corps) who are my neighbors in my apartment building, Colin who is the head of the PTA and has a son at ISD, and Jodi, also a nurse and a parent of two children and on the school board, and our guide, friend and translator Almamy to visit a marabout who is a healer. It took almost four hours to get there and more to return, because of traffic. Colin drove the whole way, in his Kia SUV. I thought he was an amazing driver. He said he enjoys it!!! He was raised in south Africa, was a truck driver in UK, and is now married to a Belgian woman who works for the UN High Commission on Refugees. Colin has led convoys with relief supplies in Chad and Bosnia. He thought this drive was easy.

We drove pass fields dotted with baobab trees, as in the first photo above. As is typical of just about everything here, the roads were the extremes from excellent to horrendous. There was one stretch of road with terrible potholes and the vehicles were weaving back and forth the two lane pavement trying to avoid them. I wondered what caused the potholes, it could not have been frost heaves. I was told the water table is high and the moisture gets under the pavement and breaks up the road surface.

The day trip took us to the village of Koumbal (located about 30 minutes south of Kaolack). Kaolack is on Google Earth but not Koumbal The aim of the trip was to visit with the 84 year old traditional marabout, Yorro, and his family. Tod had met Yorro for the first time last fall, through Almamy, and has had several long conversations with him about health and medicine. Almamy has been seeing Yorro for about 4 years, after traditional medicine didn't help him.

We arrived about 10:30 to Koumbal, a traditional West African village, all one room houses with stucco walls and thatched roofs. Our car was surrounded immediately by children, greeting us by shaking our hands and calling "bonjour". We were led over to the Yorro's house. The children followed and continued to peek through the doors. They would disappear briefly when Yorro would shoo them away--then they would returning and continue to stare in until finally Yorro pulled a long switch from behind his bed and waved it at the kids. This time, the children took off permanently.

Chairs were brought into the house so all could sit, including two plastic chairs which had been mended--in fact one of them had a different colored plastic leg grafted onto it. I had not expected it to hold but it did. The room was dominated by the large bed which Yorro alternately sat and laid on.

The room was just about square, the two door on opposite walls. While the day was warm, it was cooler in the house. The dirty walls were painted, a faded turquoise, with several old calendar posted. I guess they weren't all that old--all were from this millennium. In one corner was an old refrigerator, not working, with latches to lock both doors, that is used for storage. There was one electric light bulb hanging over the bed, near one of the doors, with an electrical outlet near the light switch. Yorro stores his medicial herbs in a large metal bowl, kept under the bed.

Each of us were examined by Yorro. The examination consists of his looking at our hands, placing his hand on our neck, on our sides, chest, and running his hand over our head and down the back. Everyone's diagnosis was the same--a problem with the blood. Tod wondered if there was a different meaning to that--more like "chi" or life force. Yorro also said, after my examination, that I could not bend my knees--or I had difficulties with doing that--which I thought was rather amazing since he did not see me walking, not that I think my arthritic knees are very noticeable.

Yorro is very kind and practical. He seems to enjoy a large clientele. Over the three hours we were with him, he saw some other "patients", all women with babies. The first woman who came, with another woman (mother, sister, friend??) and a baby. The color of her hair--it had a reddish or copper sheen to it--Colin said was a sign of malnutrition. I thought the child was about a year, but she was closer to 2. I asked if the child was walking and I understood that she does not yet walk independently. She also had a herniated umbilical cord. Yorro examined both the mother and the child--he said the mother was sicker than the child and gave medicine for both mother and child. After the mother left, Yorro, said he had treated the woman for infertility. She had tried for 4 years to conceive, and finally did after his treatment.

The next mother brought in a two month old girl, also with herniated umbilical cord, who was not sleeping well. This child seemed healthier. The third mother brought in 2 week old baby, male, I do not remember the complaint. The infant was tiny, the mother unwrapped the cloth which seemed to serve as a diaper at one point, and left him bare. She nursed him, he fell asleep, then woke after a while and she nursed him again on the other side. Yorro seemed like a kindly, loving, understanding grandfather towards to women. While he dispensed the same medicine, to all, it was his "bedside" manner that seemed most healing, that is his bedside since I understand that Yorro does not make "house-calls", patients must come to him.

The medicine that Yorro dispenses, as I said, is the same for everyone. There are bundles of twigs and leaves (from eight different plants) that you soak in water--and drink each day for three days, adding more water each day to the twigs and leaves. The other is leaves (from two plants) to make tea that you drink once a week. What makes the medicine different, is that it is prayed or blessed, for each person. In our case, Yorro's son Ousmane, who is learning to be a healer from his father, did the honors "customizing" the medicine. Each time he asked for our full name in order to perform this ritual. We would told to bury the medicine after it was used, other wise, someone might get a hold of it and cause us harm because it "had our name" on it.

Before we left, we were served the tradition little glass of tea--Gunpowder Chinese--with lots of sugar. A tray was brought in with two glasses, as they were finished, the glasses collected, two more servings were brought it. This was repeated until all had been served.

continued on next blog

vist to marabout, continued

When the visit ended and left Yorro's house, we were again surrounded by kids. Almamy had bought packages of cookies to give to the kids. Tod had brought photos of the children he had taken on his last trip.

Jodi gathered the children for more group photos (the last two photos here) As she motioned the children to move together, she said, "move closer". Several children then repeated the phase, "move closer" with perfect diction and inflection. It is quite amazing their learning of languages. They are all bilingual, Wolof and French. After Jodi told them her name, they would chant, "lundi, mardi, mercredi, jeudi" and point to her when they said "jeudi" and laugh. You don't see it in these photos but one thing that struck me about the children is their beautiful teeth. None of them will ever need braces and they are gleaming white! The children look a little somber in the pictures, but they were smiling and laughing the whole time they interacted with us.

We left and drove down the road a bit to stop and eat lunch beside a field. At this point it is close to 2 pm. We continued our return trip, after making a brief stop in Fattick on the way home. Tod and Almamy had been to a wedding in Fattick and Tod had taken photos, which he put on a CD and wanted to deliver them to the couple.

There are some things that I find difficult about writing these blogs--and that is loading photos and then writing text--I have no idea why the text moved over the right just now, separating the two group photos of the children. I have learned that I have to upload the photos in the opposite order that I want to appear on the blog. Once uploaded I can not move the photos around. I have tried to learn more about how to manage the blog but without success.

Thanksgiving in Senegal

Some of the staff got together for Thanksgiving--only 5 of the 10 adults were Americans. Many of the American teachers took off to other spots in Senegal for the holiday. We gathered at Eric's apartment, he is the elementary school principal. Dom, who is one of the organizers, bought 4 already roasted chickens from the big supermarket here, called Casino. The meal was complete with cranberry sauce, a pan of stuffing (that I made) and pumpkin and apple pie.

One of the Senegalese staff asked what the holiday was about--they only knew it as the holiday where American's eat turkey. This coming Saturday is a big Muslim holiday here, Tabaski. I am going to a Tabaski meal on Saturday--and other meal on Sunday. More about that on a future post.






Eric and his poodle, Belgie