slight chance of an afternoon shower

We were off on a bit of an adventure. Exploring the streets of Kaolack in search of one of the many tucked away tailors so my friend Meg could get some outrageous clothes that she found in the market tailored back to normalcy. There were a few drops of water falling from a small, yet ominous rain cloud, but blue skies were still overhead, so we chose to press on. We were barely two blocks down from our house when we happened across a nice little gathering of little old men, sipping on some Senegalese tea, attaya. We decided to make our trek a little bit easier and ask for directions. The request ended in the little men pointing in every which direction - There is one over there. No, no not there, over that way. No there is not one there. It is around the corner. No, no I think it is across the street. Eventually, we got some accurate advice from a little old lady who hobbled over and knew what was up. Should have started with her. As we headed around the corner, she brought us to an unmarked compound, where a few guys were just standing around, decked to the nines in multicolored fabrics. At this point the rain was starting the threaten us with a shower. After a rapid-fire exchange in Wolof, it was concluded that he was not here, and we would have to wait. He is coming, he is coming. This is an exceedingly common response here. Now the rain was really starting to come down, in big, juicy drops, and we were hurried into a millet machine room where there was a bench awaiting us. We chatted for a few minutes, and then one of the guys came into to give us some news - the tailor wouldn't be back til 5pm. It being noon, be decided to be on our way. As we ventured on down the street, the rain started to slacken slightly, and when we turned around we could actually see the down pour, just a few steps back. As we laughed about how we had missed the rain, it started to turn back towards us, and we tucked under a little canopy where some women and their children we selling roasted corn (delicious, by the way). After some consultations, it was decided that we just had to go one block further to reach our destination. As we stepped out from the canopy, we continued down the now muddy road, with little streams of yellowish water following in our footsteps (ew). Little boys were chasing down the trickles, and a moto whizzed past, as we approached the tailors. Then, out off nowhere, the skies opened up on us. we barely made it through the doorway, as the water came crashing down from overhead. The moto driver and his passenger quickly pulled up alongside the building to seek refuge, and two teenage girls, bowls stacked on their heads, piled with goods to sell, tucked in as well. And there we were - all thrown together to escape the downpour. As me and Meg giggled over the direction that our morning had taken, a troupe of little boys gathered under the roof spigots across the street, water streaming down, all splashing, possibly showering, like a little Senegalese water park. It was definitely one of those moments when you wish that you always had a camera with you. Talk about a Kodak moment. Meg launched into negotiations with the tailor, and I quickly discovered that the moto driver sitting next to me spoke Serere, and we launched into a lengthy discussion - mostly about me. What languages I speak, where I live, if I'm married, if I want to be, if I'll teach him English; standard conversation material for Senegal. The rain slowly subsides, and Meg wraps up her negotiations. We depart the tailors, and walk out into what can only be described as a river of yellowish, sludge puddles. A challenge for the walk home. We yank off our flip flops, and start the precarious hop-scotch back to the road.   Just another one of those days in Senegal, you never know where it will take you.

support girls' education!

kor(EAT)ite

This is rather overdue - pardon my inattention.

So, KORITE. Or, should I say kor(EAT)ite. It's a big celebration to celebrate the end of Ramadan. The name 'Korite' is unique to West Africa, in most of the world it is referred to as Eid ul-Fitr, and marks the end of the fast during Ramadan. To begin the festivities, the entire village dressed up in their finest and voyages out to the fields for the religious ceremony (this is a traditional practice, holding the ceremony in a field). Part of the religious aspect is to ask for Allah's forgiveness, and afterwards the entire village walked around to each others compounds to do the same. In Serere, the phrase that they use is 'wasanam' and the response is 'wasanxong' (the x is pronounced as an H), and this roughly translates to 'excuse me' and 'I excuse you.' It made for a very festive atmosphere that morning, with everyone walking around, little bands of children roaming the village. Everyone was jovial and in good spirits, and they all let out a raucous laugh when I was able to respond to them with the right phrase. Below is a quick pic of one of my favorite little sisters, my best friend in village really. Her name is Ngenya (pronounce it however you wish, I'm still figuring it out!) She followed me around with my camera all day - we had a blast.

The rest of the day was spent cooking up some deliciousness. I tried to help, but could only last until the onions came out, then the tears started pouring out! In the afternoon we had a lil block party, which was surprising totally awesome! All the women from my block came over to my house, and we chowed down on some greasy macaroni, with onion sauce and mystery meat, which we eat with bread. I should have taken a picture because I feel like this description falls woefully shot, so I promise to start photographing my food. All the women sat around chatting and dancing, having and all around good time. We then made a loop of the block, repeating the party at each compound. It was a great time, I love seeing the women all excited and dancing about. If there is one thing that Sereres know how to do, its party! I chose to forgo the greasy pasta at each house, as one serving is more than enough for me, but it gave me plenty of opportunities to get some good pics.

Dancin' all day along. 

Making our way through the village.

My counterpart and one of my brother's wives gettin' down.

This is, no lie, a 100+ year old women shakin' her butt. 

My 60-something year old mom busting a move. I'd never seen her dance before!

In case you can't tell from the pictures, Sereres like to dance - it makes for a good time :)

be unreasonable

"reasonable people adapt themselves to the world. unreasonable people attempt to adapt the world to themselves. all progress, therefore, depends on unreasonable people."
-george bernard shaw

island hopping

I recently went on a quick trip to Dakar, and during my visit my friend Lisa and I went to Goree Island. The island was a "last stop" sort of destination in the slave trade, as it lies at the very western tip of Africa. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and you can take a virtual tour here: http://webworld.unesco.org/goree/en/index.shtml 
The Senegalese have restored most of the colonial buildings, and turned a place with a horrific history into a beautiful destination. I'll let the pictures do the talking.

*disclaimer: may have gotten a little photoshop happy..

cartography

I have a fond appreciation for maps. Especially old maps. They are visual representations of history, and most of the time, they are beautiful pieces of artwork. One doesn't often think about maps; they are taken for granted. Certainly, every classroom in America has one plastered to the wall. I don't need to think twice about the location of California, or where Russia is in relation to India. I just know. That is most definitely not the case here. Some people can't recognize the different regions of Senegal on an unlabeled map. A volunteer close by to me went on vacation to Tanzania, and when I told my village this no one knew where Tanzania was. In Africa, sure, but where? This lack of basic geographical knowledge can be bewildering, because I have always known where Idaho was, or Mexico or France. Because I have always had a map. It is such a basic cornerstone of an education, that I don't think that most of us even realize how essential it is. This being a problem with a relatively simple solution, I decided to start painting some maps.

I have a primary school in my village with five classrooms, and one more on the way. To start, I have begun painting a map of Senegal in each of the classrooms. All the kids roaming around the village would pile into the classrooms as I paint, asking what I was drawing, and when we established that it was a map of Senegal, the real questions began. Where is Dakar? Where is Kaolack? They would ask where my road town is, or any other surrounding town that they have heard of. Generally, these kids haven't been very far out of the village, let alone the region. With a map of their country I hope that they can start to get a sense of how big the world out there really is. 

Once I finish up with these, I am going to do a much larger map of Africa in one of the classes, and then to wrap up the map murals,  I plan on doing a map of the world that takes up the full wall in one of the classes. One of my neighbors did the world map project and it came out really wonderfully. You can see it here on her blog: http://jmw556.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-can-show-you-world.html

One more thing, as you can see I haven't labeled the regions yet because the brushes here are of a horrendous quality, and writing turns out more like jibberish, so if anyone feels so inclined to send some black paint pens my way, me and a hundred or so kids would be much obliged  :)