First week at site

Tactless as it sounds, the US government is giving me a 2-year vacation. Not for free, of course: in exchange, I am giving up two years of my family and friends, my mom’s cooking, warm showers and snowy days, my favorite TV shows (Oh, Jon Stewart, how I miss you!), and more – all so that this particular Senegalese community can associate a smiling, friendly face with Americans and America in general. If we’re lucky, I’ll accomplish something that we can slap the “development” tag on. If we’re not, well, there’s that whole 2-year vacation thing.

My task here is to facilitate eco-tourism. No wonder; this is a beautiful place. From my front door, some arm of the salty Salou, River laps lazily by. A line of mangroves grounds the far side as far as I can see, maybe even all the way to the ocean. Motored pirogues occasionally pass by, but otherwise, it’s very calm. The most noise here comes from the birds – of which there is infinite variety and color. (This part of the country is known for amazing bird-watching.)

And my house, well, let’s just say that it doesn’t exactly fit the bill for that 1960s Peace Corps experience/fantasy – I’m definitely not living in a thatched hut. It’s not exactly a Western home either, but I have an indoor flush toilet and an actual shower (just don’t drink the water – it’s highly saline). Part of the reason for this relative luxury is that I’m living in a tourist community, flush with Western – mostly French – tourists/second-homers for at least half of the year. My family here is E. and her toubab husband G. (who divides the year between ML~ and France) and their young son N. There’s also a woman and her two kids who rent a room, but I rarely see them.

So in addition to being spoiled in my physical living conditions, I’m also lucky in that I get to speak French 95% of the time. And as long as G. is here, I get occasional “gourmand” additions to my diet: the other day I had my first taste of Pastis! Vegetables are still unhealthily scarce, but I’m eating fresh shrimp, crab and fish twice a day. (I’m mostly over my fear of shellfish…out of necessity.)

The first three months at my site are supposed to be for community integration, language learning and observation. I’m not 100% sure how much I can integrate into a community that’s so used to having temporary toubabs parade through their midst as if on safari. My Seereere has gotten off to a rotten start (here I blame the French and my own laziness), but I’m due to start working with a tutor soon. My counterpart took me on a rather exhaustive tour of the village and the island, and every day I’m meeting new people and learning more names than I can possibly remember. In my downtime - and there is a lot of downtime - I’m getting my fill of what this lovely place has to offer (swimming, tours of the delta, sunsets to die for…).

Internet is inconvenient here. The electricity is solar. I’m not sure how often I’ll get to access email, but please don’t think that lets you off the hook for keeping in touch. Finally being at site is excruciatingly lonely; email (when I can get it), phone calls (when the network deigns to connect) and snail mail (assuming it arrives) keep me from going absolutely insane. I promise to respond to each and every one of you as soon as I can.

Well, that’s a neat enough summary for my first week at site. Miss you all dearly and I hope things are well at home (and that you’re all taking good advantage of the snow).

Here's the PO Box address I'm sharing with my counterpart.
BP 133
Fimela, Senegal
West Africa

Got questions? Ask them in the comments section. I'd rather answer questions than fill this blog with boring details no one wants to hear, or leave this unupdated for lack of things to say. Plus, I usually have severe writers' block when it comes to writing anything longer than a text message. Give me prompts. :)