Mountain mouse heads to the sea

I’ve been at my site for three weeks and I’m starting to realize why it’s said that you’ll never get more sleep than you do as a volunteer. Especially during these first three months, when we don’t have any projects or well-defined “work,” it feels like I spend a lot of time twiddling my thumbs, reading, daydreaming, just sitting with the neighbors. Depending on my mood, I wile away the day counting either the reasons I miss home or the ways life in Senegal is inherently more cool than life back home (it’s Africa). Here are some of the things I’ve been up to lately; you can decide whether these are mundane details or the day-to-day reality of “integrating into my community” (which is currently my only real responsibility).

1) Peanut harvesting. At sunset the other day, I went into an already harvested field behind my home with three of the women who work at my counterpart’s campement. We sifted through the detritus for unplucked peanuts, clinging dustily to the roots of the few overlooked plants. Unroasted peanuts taste more “beany” than “nutty,” and they never taste better than when you’ve picked them out of the dirt yourself.

2) Catholic Mass. Now that I’m in a community that is half-Catholic, half-Muslim, I get to see how both religions play out in Senegal. Women aren’t allowed into the mosques, but I’ve taken to attending Mass on Sundays with E. (my homestay host). It’s interesting, it kills a few hours on Sunday mornings, and it gives me a chance to greet and chat with villagers who I might not normally have the opportunity to see. Showing my face every week might eventually distinguish me from the toubab tourists who parade through the church taking pictures. Oh, and there are tam-tams! Drums make everything more fun.

3) Ironing. Today I finally got around to ironing the fancy complets I wore the week of the swearing-in ceremony. Ironing involves placing red-hot charcoal into a rusty old contraption and pressing really hard. Fambaye took one look at my pile of folded clothes and asked, “This is already ironed…?” quickly wilting my pride to a wrinkly mass not unlike my pile of wrinkly clothes.

4) Women’s groups. My work partners explicitly requested a female volunteer; in this community, women are especially active. One group I’ve spent a lot of time with is a gaggle of older women who are learning to do batik cloth dying as a way of creating a small business based on a local artisan tradition. They’re all grandmothers (which here pegs them around 50) and they are tireless, taking care of huge families and also spending whole days organizing themselves and their batik work. They, along with the antiquary market women and the younger women’s tam-tam/social group, have been very welcoming and infinitely patient with me. (I mostly just sit around listening to them.)

5) Seereer class. I didn’t think it was possible, but my Seereer class is actually moving slower than my Wolof class ever did. I’ve had three classes so far with Georges, my very patient – too patient – tutor, and we’ve covered only 10 vowels and 11 consonants. He told me the language has some 46 sounds, so I figure we’ll be lucky to cover them all before my 3-month tutoring stipend runs out. On my own, I have figured out some basic salutations and the ever-appropriate expression “It’s very hot today.” (Aa sum aa sum aa ha ne).

6) A delta tour. ML~ is a tourist community and my two counterparts both own campements (hotels…sort of). I’m lucky to be able to chalk tourist activities up to “work.” Hence last week’s pirogue tour of the delta to see salt mining/harvesting in action, a traditional fishing port and its modern replacement (poorly planned by the state) and the endless mangrove canals. Pretty sweet. And, no, I’m not just putting this here to coax you to come visit me (but you should).

7) Ndangane. Even here in Senegal, it seems I still get cabin fever or itchy feet or whatever you want to call it. The PC country director challenged our stage to stay at our sites every night until Thanksgiving – a challenge I can handle since it doesn’t preclude me taking the boat over to Ndangane, on the mainland, for the day. It’s not too much of a change of scenery, but the shopping’s better (island life comes with some limitations: sadly only small packs of Biscreme and no toilet paper [the horror]). My homestay host G. swears you can find chocolate there since they have round-the-clock electricity to power refrigerators. I didn’t find any on my first crossing this week, but chocolate is reason enough to schedule another trip. I might make Ndangane into a weekly excursion.