Jam Tan

“Jam tan”

Peace only, the habitual response to greetings both light and serious
any time of day. Even as I hide in my hut to write this, my host
nieces chant this over pretend phones.

It has been two years since I graduated from USCA with a B.S. in
biology and just under that since I received my official invitation to
serve as a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV). I pursued the lengthy
application my senior year after looking at a range of study abroad
options. I qualified under the Agriculture program in Sub-Saharan
Africa with my science and French studies at USCA , field internship
at SRS, and tree-loving nature.

When the much anticipated invitation packet arrived, I nervously read
it over twice in the privacy of my room before finally sharing the
news. I was nominated to serve the following fall as an Agroforestry
Extension volunteer in Senegal. I received continued support and a
matching curiosity from family and friends. At the time, I only wish I
could better explain the approaching position, but there was no way of
knowing details. There are too many external (not to mention internal)
factors that contribute to this ultimately unique experience like
local language and site placement, prior NGO presence and relations,
perception of foreigners, and motivation for change.

Over the summer, I did everything I could to prepare for the vague job
description and terrifying PCV blogs that squeezed into my nightly
reading. PCVs were mugged by knife point and by tropical birds, they
fell into old latrines, and fell in love with new cultures. The
stories were rich, unexpected, and promising of wonderful
(mis)adventures. It was then that I first received the best and most
annoying advice that would carry through my service: “You’ll…figure it
out.” I had a plan, a prayer, and not much more, but was ready to put
it to work with real-world experience in an international environment.
The first two months of training consisted of “figuring it out”
through culture shock, intense emotions, and homesickness out the
wazoo. I was the exotic fish, the toubab, brought in from across the
Atlantic, and everyone tapped on my glass to ensure that I wouldn’t
forget it.

That misinterpreted thing that made me crumble early on was the same
thing that encouraged perseverance- Senegalese hospitality, or
Taranga. They shared with me their family name, their tongue-in-cheek
jokes, snotty-kiddy colds, bowls of white rice, and seemingly
redundant customs. In return, I have humbling discretions and shared
stories that change stereotypes on both sides. It seems silly to
entertain everyone I bump into with the automatic response “Peace
only!” It wasn’t until I was dropped in my rural village of 400 with
my shabby Pulaar language skills and time that I would understand.

I spent my days in the gossipy gardens and cotton fields with the
women, the afternoons making tea in the shade of mango trees with the
men, and any transition in a paparazzi swarm of kids, the most
forgiving of my Pulaar mishaps. Although the last two years of
classroom French would be next to useless at the village level, good
ol’ biology never let me down. I started off slowly, encouraging tree
nurseries and discussing deforestation, branched into sanitation
trainings about the abstract concept of ‘germs’ and ‘bacteria’, and
put my Pulaar to the test with nutrition, malaria, and sex education.
The trainings are high-points between the most basic form of
networking and connecting local needs with feasible solutions. I am a
facilitator trying to hack it out in the local community.

The water shortage makes the most routine tasks taxing, the lack of
electricity limits the day length, and the heat is only good for small
talk. How is the work? Peace only. Yes, I found the strength to make
it through another trying day and I’m just brave enough to do it
again.

My host family says that two years isn’t long enough, even though I
was intimidated by the length of the commitment while applying. Over
that span, Peace Corps has proven to be an express life-training
program. It truly is a unique environment in which the energy put into
the system is multiplied tenfold. I now recognize subtle and profound
changes in my patience, flexibility, and my problem solving skills. I
am confident that with a deepened appreciation and curiosity for life
I will preserver in the next adventure.

I figured it out after all.

Jazz in Senegal

      The deadline to my PC bucket list is approaching with the last 5 months I have left in Senegal. I was able to make another tick mark with my most recent trip north to the annual Saint Louis Jazz Festival. Five days of African infused jazz took me to the affable side of Senegal I don’t see often and was just as wonderful as I imagined. I passed through St.Louis during the off-season and learned to appreciate the carefree atmosphere and European architecture. While everyone commented that there was a smaller crowd this year due to the unfortunate Mali travel advisory, top jazz artists still poured in from the U.S, Germany, Tunisia and other countries. 

Our trip started out slowly, a pace that nothing can escape in this country, even though we were the ones travelling by LandRover for once. Instead of the car being our saving grace to Dakar land, it was just the opposite. There was a reoccurring problem with the fuel injection that cost double in fuel along with two flat tires, one of which was the spare. In hindsight, it could have been worse... but those words are hard to utter for fear that “Inshallah” wouldn’t go far and a lightning storm would come out of nowhere.

While we waited for the second tire repair, we searched for lunch. Travelling in company not accustomed to daily scheduling outside of the big city, we missed the street lunch window. At an awkward 3:30 we found this tucked away home with a "Resto" sign out front that happily bought and cooked more rice for us and served dinner chicken.Robert took full advantage of the down time with a quick laundry session. Our humble resto owner provided a bucket, fetched water, and hung a line; southern hospitality has nothing on that. I still think this interaction is at the crossroads of an (somewhat) acceptable task and getting away with doing crazy things. Plus, they dry time was cut short and supplemented by the “holdin 'em out the car window” technique. This pick-me-up wore off as we trudged on to Dakar and just made it before midnight. 

After a few days of Dakar business, never the cheery kind, we drove a few hours north to St.Louis for the first day of Jazz Fest. We made hotel reservations a few weeks earlier, a rookie mistake preceding any international festival. So we took the last place available at the central location. It was a little grungy, a little buggy, and in the heart of downtown. Maybe Im too forgiving or maybe it was the night band, but it grew on me. Opening night starred Baaba Maal, a Grammy Award winning Senegalese musician, and his Dande Lenol (Voice of the People) Band.

Tourist shopping! 

Langue du Barbarie National Park, just 18 km south of Saint-Louis in the “onion capitol,” Gandiol, is at the intersection of mangroves, sand dunes, tidal wetlands, the Senegal River and the ocean. The park was established well before my time as a sea turtle nesting area. We came by to check out the hubbub on the nesting island for migratory birds. We took a pirogue down the river and looped the island to see billed gulls, Caspian terns, royal terns, and others taking their turn at this stop along on the European route. 

115 km, 3 hours flat.

I may have made the most efficient trip into town ever. I hope my return trip doesn't counterbalance it. 

I slipped out by the light if the full moon at 6 a.m. and only startled one person, my Babba, who spotted me with the flashlight as I was locking up.  A familiar bush path, a herd of roaming cows, and two new blisters later, I ended the trip to the road with a run. With my retuned (hardly finesse) senses, I heard a car clunking down the road a little faster than I was moving. I got by the regulars with a quick hello, signaled the car with a hiss and jumped into the open backdoor like a boss. Gratifying win.

If only I had a picture of my situation for the next 25 km. The full car offered an unoccupied oil-bucket between inward-facing benches as a seat, which punctuated me with 11 pairs of knees and three chickens. 

I got my nature walk in and then played a balancing game on the kOLDa road all before 8! 

I didn't mark my luck until I got the sixth seat of seven in the next and final car. Just enough of a window for an egg sandwich. 115 km in 3 hours flat, I think we have a new record. 

2 points Homa.

Who opened the oven... Wind.

Hello world, 

Mood music: Sunrise by Norah Jones

It's bedtime, so tucked into my mosquito net I am. I just want to review some of the highlights of the week. 

1) Thursday has been deemed my village tour day. I'm central to 9 villages of interest in a 5 km radius. To keep work pinned to a timeline and people somewhat accountable for their work interests, I more or less make rounds to see them all. It's no small task with everyone insisting to hang out until the next meal.  I think they appreciate my "quick" stops judging by the thank you gifts I've been receiving. After playful banter, anyone at a garden or field will surely offer leaves or okra for sauce, seasonally ripe mangoes and cashews, and anything I show interest in (mint). I've also received sacks of the staple corn and rice, alive chickens, and hunted bush bird. Sometimes it's easier to accept such things. I need veggies on days when we only have plain rice at home; I crave the fruit when my water bottle isn't enough. 

During one of these days, I hung out for tea and a surprise breakfast while we talked about future village developments. Typical village breakfast is nothing to write home about, but the bowl they set out was not regular white rice. After a year and a half, I finally discovered the low sugar Guinean rice. It has a better taste and texture and is more nutritional. Year and a half. 

There are so many grain alternatives available at competitive prices, but for reasons I can't understand, plain white rice seems to be preferred. The monotony, the bland diet is what drives me to poor choices. 

Latest: eating spoonfuls of Gatorade powder. Red and delicious. 

2) We joined forces in my dear friend, Sarah's village to put on one last health event before her departure. We (wo)manned 4 stations: diarrhea and simple ORS, family planning and birth control, malaria and homemade repellant, and first aid. 

Why was there a sound system at the school at 9am?! The morning was noisy since the teachers agreed to toss in a last minute World Vision AIDS event. Whenever a situation with the chance if confrontation arises, it's ignored as long as possible. Under the bed it goes.They are incredibly peaceful people, but at the cost of simple problem solving. After the initial annoyance,  we continued mostly as planned since the other representatives were fashionably late. At the diarrhea station I got to practice bathroom humor in Pulaar with the ~75 kids that came through.  That will cheer you up. 

The giddiness nearly dropped from that air. Sarah has put in 2 years, so was also packing up and saying bitter sweet goodbyes. She had a bucket of giveaways that we couldn't take enough of under her peer pressure. I'll think of you every time I use a Qtip.? 

The Goodbye Cycle is for another blog. 

Safe travels my love monkey.

To bring a little balance

I love when preconceptions fall short. I love stretching a foot out beyond the warmed sheets. I love stopping in my tracks to contemplate nature. I love my toes buried deep in sand and my hands coated with the earthy smell of soil. I love both the fondness of a familiar place and the excitement of exploring somewhere new. I love the deep, filling breath before a sigh. I love when I'm brave enough to be vulnerable. I love when people close their eyes and smile to let the sun dance on their full face. I love when those eyes realize they're loved. I love sleepy mumbles and fluffy morning cheeks. I love awkward silences that don't need to be explained. I fall in love with people when they're beautiful disasters. I fall in love with their honesty and their quirks and their foolish impulses.

a Rant not gone to waste.

     It's been a while since I've taken the time to really crank out a complete blog-thought, complaint, or... Joke.? I split my most recent vacation time between South Carolina and Texas, so my southern drawl and country twang is recharged and liable to slip on out. I'd like to talk about a few things that are down right annoying ;).

     I don't think I have many pet peeves, but the few I claim are justified (even if only in my mind). To what degree or range of irritation does something have to reach to earn the badge of pet peevery? The bothersome buzz must be annoying enough to generate a physical response (I.e. wide or rolling eyes, grunting or growling, puckered lips, tightened chest, etc.), preventable by surrounding knucklehead-friends, and overlooked by most people. 
     I can't stand when people leave the faucet running the entire 2 minutes as they brush their teeth. Yes, it takes that long or should and I don't care who pays the bill. I hate unnecessary packaging material that fills up my trash can. I hate running small loads through the washers, dish or laundry. I also don't like when the milk jug gets crusty but I don't think that's relevant. In short, being wasteful is my nail-scratching, deeply-rooted pet peeve... Because I can't just say stupid people. 
     The majority of these nuisances live in developed countries and identify themselves as contributing community members, yet they have the audacity to call the less fortunate people of developing countries lazy, unwilling to work, and even backwards. Are they the backwards ones? 
     Those people work their tails off everyday to provide their families and even neighbors with the appropriate amount of resources- food and water. The field crops are a product of their blood, sweat, and more sweat (they don't show much emotion). They eat what they need and dont know what obesity is. They would gladly take the 1,400  calories wasted per American per day (in 2009) [4]. They walk to a well to pull buckets of water for bathing, drinking, washing, and cooking daily. If you were pulling water in front of everyone and then carrying it back, maybe you would rethink that long, steamy shower session. I guarantee you the household water usage is still less by a family 5 folds larger than the typical American family of four that uses up to 400 gallons a day (EPA). Im not spending all day at the well for that. 

     You've got me on the trash. A modern waste management system is slow to come together with littering as the norm, leaving city streets lined in trash. They recognize the growing problem, however, and retaliate by collecting the debris from homes, streets , and shop fronts to burn weekly. Trash day Wednesday! Dont forget to dump your bucket out back. Maybe you didn't get me as good as I let on. Nobody likes the smell of burning junk, the chance of a wildfire, or adding more carcinogenic compounds to the air, but its that or watch it pile up.     Dont get too cozy. America’s biggest export is trash — the scrap paper and metal we throw away. The Chinese buy it, make products out of it, sell them back to us at enormous profit, and we turn it into trash again. America, the country that once made things for the world, is now China’s trash compactor.-  from the LA Times, speaking on  Edward Humes’ new book, Garbology.  The average American discards about 4.5 pounds of trash a day [2]. The total volume of solid waste produced in the U.S. each year is equal to the weight of more than 5,600 Nimitz Class air craft carriers, 247,000 space shuttles, or 2.3 million Boeing 747 jumbo jets [3].  Albeit, recycling is on the rise (and finally catching on in the south) but we have no room for our own trash, much less to talk about others'.

Bring more sustainable habits into your life and to the attention of others. You can calculate your ecological footprint and DO something about it. Below are some of the easiest ways you can reduce your impact. Even small actions. 

WaterSense, a partnership program sponsored by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, seeks to help families and businesses reduce water use in a BIG way with a few simple steps, like upgrading to more efficient products. For more info, visit www.epa.gov/watersense!

And for God's sake, turn off the faucet while you brush your teeth!

[1] Sorensen, M. (2010, Mar 1). A Lot to Digest. Waste Age. (http://wasteage.com/Recycling_And_Processing/food-waste-management-guidelines-201003)
[2] U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. (2009, November). Municipal Solid Waste Generation, Recycling, and Disposal in the United States Detailed Tables and Figures for 2008. Office of Resource Conservation and Recovery. http://www.epa.gov/epawaste/nonhaz/municipal/pubs/msw2008data.pdf)
[3] R.W. Beck, Inc. (2001). “Size of the United States Solid Waste Industry.” [4] U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. (2010, March 1). Statistics on the Management of Used and End-of-Life Electronics. (http://www.epa.gov/epawaste/conserve/materials/ecycling/manage.htm)

First World Problems... you guys are killin me.

On my way out of Dakar, volunteers that recently visited the states shared a "First World Problems" video along with other current memes to catch me up on the notable events and maybe ease the shock during my visit home. Although the video should have been humorous, I could hardly watch it. Im not saying that Im not guilty of making undeserving complaints, but not to this degree. 

First World Problems, White Whines, or if you want to be correct, Developed World Problems are not problems. My Peace Corps service in Senegal has broadened my worldly perspective and understanding of cultures at different stages of development. No textbook, teacher, or video had a chance of making a lasting mark beyond the initial, yet genuine, interest, which only the experience itself could do. Now I see  live with people in less fortunate situations (if that does it justice) that have to take leaps and bounds everyday instead of just surviving the long Starbucks line and unnecessary McDonald's calories. Get out of your comfort zone, care about something bigger, help someone out... In return, you might find the self-satisfying feeling that no prized electronic device can offer. (thats a topic for another day). 

video summary: 
Your phone charger wont reach your bed? 
     These kids dont have electricity and probably share a bed/a floor mat with a few other kids. 
Your house is too big... for one wireless router?
     They live in rickety buildings or huts that might have doors. 
You left your clothes in the washer machine too long? 
     They wash in the creek or pull well water and wash by hand.