Readjustment

So yeah, RPCVs can be cranky.

Because we go through a kind of reverse culture shock. I know, some RPCVs might roll their eyes and say that it's cliche to use the term culture shock, that the term makes simply readjusting seem like a complex.

Whatever. All I know is there are some things about being back that are hard to get used to.

Like when I stepped off the plane and everyone was white. That was pretty weird! Dakar's not like that! And how everybody started walking real fast out of the terminal. I was thinking to myself, what for? It's not as if all of these people have connecting flights! Plus-- in the Atlanta airport they have all of these neat paintings on the wall. So I walked slow, and I refused to get on the Tarmac. I looked at the artand I was deliberate with each step. (There was one lady on our neighborhood walking path walking slow with her child. I had a hunch she wasn't american. Americans have a time crunch. I got close and heard she was speaking something slavic. Walking deliberately is a skill I hope to keep)

Once in the other terminal waiting for my connecting flight, I also had to notice how one out of every three people were holding a tall white starbucks cup! Wow.

And then there was the experience of driving the car again, on a saturday. Not only did everyone own SUVs, but, like me, everyone was in a car, driving from one supermarket to the next. It was a beautiful day outside and we were all in these boxes. It's like the saturday activity of americans...get in the car and go buy something.

Then I had the experience of somebody walking right by me, me trying to make eye contact to say hello, and the person totally ignoring me. How can you walk right by somebody with no one else around and pretend you don't see them?

And fast food. Does anyone cook for themselves anymore?

Then there are just the differences that don't have any good or bad conotations for me. For example, light switches. First of all, I'm not used to them and second of all I don't know where they are on the wall of my house anymore. Second, faucets. I can drink the water that comes out of them. And I can brush my teeth with that water, too. Sweet. Third, the floors aren't made of dirt, so I don't have to wear shoes inside and have gritty feet all the time, and the 3 second rule applies once more.

There are also good cultural differences here. For example, people are listening to my every word here. It's startling. In senegal, I used to ramble off all the time and no one would listen. And that was ok (: But here, in English, I can speak how I want more often, and it just comes out and, oops, people are listening. why are they listening so closely? (:

It's ok being back. but really, just ok. I miss adventure. I miss challenge. I'm itching to get out again......

September 30, 2007. Yesterday, I left the village.

As I’ve gone through the process of leaving my village, the things people say have impressed me.
When I visited the marabout, Ma Ansou Nyiang, to say goodbye, he taught me this lesson; “when you have no riches, life is not easy (‘felee’).” When you have riches, life is not easy. When you are in bad health, life is not easy. When you are in good health, life is not easy. When you have no husband and family, life is not easy. When you have a husband and family, life is not easy. So Muñ (Suck it up).” The idea is that no matter how much material wealth and satisfaction you have, life can still be difficult. So you have to be patient and weather through the tough times, because there will always be tough times.

People shook my left hand when I left, instead of my right. I was wondering why. The first time it happened with Na Khady, and them Na Jen, and then Na Degen, and I gave them all my right hand, not understanding the coincidence. Later when Fap Lamin, Seynabou, Satu and others helped me bring my bags out to the car, they all gave me their left hands and I was too flustered to realize it until fap lamin slowly gave me his left hand and told me “May we see one another again” ( " In madir fa jam"). Then I finally got it. It is a way of expressing a finality, but expressing hope that it be otherwise, that we see one another again.

People often said blessings for me when I visited them these last days. They always began with “Yassam” which means “May” and then generally say “May you go home in peace” , “May you see your mother and father again.” “May you get a nice job and make lots of money” “May you have a husband and children” “May we meet again”. Na Khady always likes to say, “Yassam o ret fo jam, gat fo jam.” (May you go in peace, arrive in peace).

I visited many compounds before leaving, the first of many was Na Ndeye Saxo, an older elegant women who has a beautifully rich way of speaking seereer. She said to me that having a guest begins and ends with a “Roxon” (helping one lift or take off a bag on their head). You help them take their bags off of their head when they arrive, they stay with you and you do your best to take care of them, and then you help them put the bag back on their head when they leave. The idea is that eventually, you will repay them should they come visit or should a relative of theirs come visit.

This sentiment is strong. Everyone asked for my address as I left because they think one day they might arrive in America and be able to call on me for help. I hope that someday some Senegalese person does give me a chance to repay the hospitality by coming to my home.


Now that I’m finished and know I am not returning any time soon, I am waxing nostalgic. I am wondering when I can ever do anything so brave and adventurous again, so meaningful and unique. It was hard, and I am overlooking that now that I get to go home.

I have learned some major life lessons. For one, a person needs to be a strong hard ass in this world not to get swallowed up by it. You need to know what you want and where you are going. You need to be firm in your decisions. Bravery is a quality that will help you get what you want out of life in every aspect. The benefits of trying something you are scared of far outweigh the risks involved. If you’re scared of doing something, you must force yourself to do it. FEARLESS. Adventure brings you happiness.

A second big lesson I’ve learned: No use fretting because things always turn out all right.

A third big lesson: Patience is the virtue that also helps you get what you want out of life. When facing decisions, like career choices, take a step back and say, “wait- just wait.”

A fourth big lesson: Life is short. Don’t waste it by following rules. Enjoy yourself.

A fifth big lesson : People people people make a person happy. Big families, big social networks- a real community is key to happinness.

A sixth big lesson: It's easy to see what other people are doing and follow them. But if you don't watch out, you get used to it and there comes a time when you need to find your spine. When you can't ask, "Well, what are you doing?" When it doesn't matter what they're doing.

May 26, 2007




Subject of this email: vacation. I went on an awesome vacation to a place called Cape Verde, which is a series of islands off the coast of West Africa. They call themselves "Euro-African," which is pretty apt, because they are not fully one or the other. The people are all descendants of Portugeuse colonizers and the slaves they brought when they founded the uninhabited islands.

There are a lot of factors that make you question calling Cap Verdians Africans. Most people are lighter skinned that continental Africans. The cuisine doesn't have Maggi msg spice cubes and is kind of bland, which is decidedly not West African. The dress is different too, girls wear mini skirts and lycra tank tops from China, and boys attire is kind of between Euro trash and American. They speak a Creole of Portugeuse, and they have a lot of ties with Brazil and Portugal, where many go to university. Most of the household income comes from remittances.
\u003c/span\>Many houses have hot water showers and tiled floors. \

The place has a character unlike any other I've ever felt in a country. The people are so relaxed, and anything goes. This is especially true for sexual conduct. The reason I know about this is because we stayed with a Cap Verdian Peace Corps Volunteer who was dating a Cap Verdian guy. We hung out with her and her friends and learned that pretty much no one is faithful. Fathers often have children with many women, and that marriage is rare because "divorce is expensive." It is common for Cap Verdians to ask to date you for a week, but explicitly limit it to a week. I guess just to give it a try?! You might have one person you date for a long time, but you can date other people on the side all the while. I think Senegalese share this attitude, but have the discipline of the polygamy doctrine holding them back.. For Senegalese, if you want another woman, you must marry her, and not have more than four wives in the end. The difference also is that Cap Verdian women are also free to date whomever they want, whenever (this could never be possible in Senegal. Girls are looked down on if they date in my village, hence why I don't date villagers). It's an interesting perspective, so different from the average American's.

Cap Verdian volunteers got it made. Not only do they live on an island, but they have spectacular and difficult hikes that stretch on up and over the mountain peaks.
It is so goregeous, where it is dry, the crags are breathtaking and where it is wet, the sugar canes and ornamentals make the valleys very pretty. We hiked for four days in the valleys, drank the local brew and tried our best to speak with the locals in gestures and bad bad spanish, making all the "s" sounds like "sh". I call portuguese the "dishwasher" language. listen to it sometime and you'll know what I'm talking about.

It was kind of a bummer to come back and see polluted streets, beggars and everyone haggling right and left. But we will manage to readjust to Senegal.

Suck it up

Lately I have been particularly sensitive to the Wolof concept of "Muñ." Muñ is loosely translated as "grit your teeth and bear it," or "suck it up." It's how people hear deal with disappointment, you stay quiet, you hold your head high, and you silently barrel through it. They are such a tough people! They tell me that I do an ok job muñing, being so far away from my home. But I really don't have disappointments of the same magnitude as them! Lately I had to muñ when the cows ate all my peppers. I made a half groan half holler when I saw the stubby leafless stems, but afterwards, I muñed. The women here are told to muñ when they are having babies. No screaming, can you imagine? When I burnt my figure at the beginning of my service on some hot ash, causing a huge bubble to rise, I cried a little (what a fool I was!) and I have been ceaselessly teased since for not muñing.
These days I have also made some funny observations about medicine in Senegal. Usually older people get most of their medicine from plants in the countryside; every leaf or twig they bring back almost always cures diarrhea or constipation. They don't have any cure for headaches, though, so most people buy "Perecetamon," the French aspirin that they pronounce, "Prestamon" and that they find sold half price at the garages because they're expired. Mostly every illness, if its not stomach related, can be classified as "cibiru" (fever or malaria) or "fatiguement" (tiredness). I basically urge everyone to see the village nurse to get the real deal. They sometimes ask me for bandaids, not to cover any sore, but to put over the area of "fatigue" in their body so that the bandaid's mysterious occidental healing powers can seep through and ease the ache. Lately the kids in my compound come in every night asking for one, but really they just want my attention (: I especially love the kid who asks for bandaids but won't touch food after I've ate some of it because he doesn't want to turn into a white person!
Oh, the kids. They have their own version of "punch buggy" that I have been taken with. It's called "chodok," and you punch someone and say "chodok" and then they have to catch you and punch you back. The moms don't like that I'm encouraging this in their children. I play too much with them. The other day, I was cleaning my backyard and carting the trash out to the countryside, because that's what we do here, and the kids were begging to be allowed to push the wheelbarrow and saying thank you, Fatu, afterwards. Hey, no problem!
In other news, my sister Seynabu just had a baby. The little girl, named Khady, is 3 kilos, which is 6 pounds! That is heavy and healthy for a Senegalese baby. We are all very happy, but Nabu is very tired. This was a big deal baptism, and lots of fun for me, since Nabu is 23 like me and we get along really well. So I am glad all is safe. And they call the baby a "tomato," which is also what they call foreigners, since we are both a kind of shade of red.
Work is going fine. The cashews are about to be ripe, so I am repairing my fruit dryer. I am about to do a seedbed of tomatoes and eggplant. And my music class is the highlight of every week. We are learning rhythm and they actually understand a lot of it! The French nursery rhymes we sing are always a hit, too. Soon I hope to go on vacation, and then the rainy season will come, and then, BAM this wild crazy Peace Corps lifestyle will be over. That's the way I like to look at it (: