Two Years of Peace Corps: The Numbers

25 months

764 bucket baths

121 hours of language instruction

127 hours of training

34 latrines built

2 well covers constructed

38 vacation days taken

6 games of softball

26 murals painted

6 mystery fevers

107 books read

3 pockets picked

4 gardens started
6 snakes killed

2 wells covered

13 pairs of flip flops broken

2674 kilometers biked

31 new family members gained

1 cell phone stolen

3 hot seasons

1 scorpion sting

4 countries visited

1 flesh-eating skin infection

4 grants written

18 vaccinations received

4 turkeys butchered

3 home haircuts

387 trees planted

60 days of Ramadan fasted
10 reports written

3 American visitors

2 bottles of shampoo

6 rounds of antibiotics

111 blog posts

1 unforgettable experience

You're Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile!

Abdou Ba, pre-surgery

Working with Global Smile Foundation in Thies last November was an unforgettable part of my Peace Corps service, but even after the surgeries were finished there was one patient that I just couldn't get out of my mind. Abdou Ba, the 10 year old boy who stayed with us at the training center for the duration of the clinic, absolutely stole my heart. I have been carrying his before and after pictures around with me on my ipod for three months, showing them to everyone I meet like one of those proud grandmas, but I couldn't help but wonder what his smile looked like fully healed. Fortunately I was able to find out the name of his village, and when I passed through the region of Tamba yesterday on my way home from Kedougou I decided to go on a scavenger hunt, photo in hand, to see if I could find him.

Abdou's family with my new friend Xabi

 I started my search in the Tamba garage, wandering from car to car asking if anyone knew how to get to a village called Sinthiaw Malem. I was directed to a large mini car and herded into the back with about 35 other passengers, where I just happened to sit next to a woman going to the same village. Her name was Xabi Ba, and between her limited Wolof and my limited Pulaar we managed to strike up a conversation. Of course I immediately whipped out my photos of Abdou and asked if she knew where he lived, and lo and behold she was good friends with his entire family! She immediately took me under her wing and insisted that I come with her to her house so I could leave my luggage there before she took me to visit him.

Amerik insisted on a karate themed photo-shoot.
How could I say no to a Pulaar Ninja?

When I arrived at Abdou's house, both he and his uncle were gone, so I spent some time getting to know the rest of his family. In addition to his uncle (also named Abdou), he lives with both of his grandparents, some aunts and a whole army of cousins from toddlers to teenagers, including an older boy nicknamed "Amerik" for his love of all things American. Uncle Abdou came home shortly after I arrived with a shirt full of peanuts gleaned from one of their fields, and we all hung out in one of the huts drinking fresh milk and snacking on his peanuts and the mangoes I brought from Kedougou. Since my Pulaar is pretty rudimentary we conducted our conversation in a crazy hybrid of wolof, french, pulaar and seereer with a generous sprinkling of charades.

A million dollar smile

When Abdou finally came back from the fields he was ushered straight into the room, and for a moment I didn't even recognize him. His radiant smile lit up the room, and he literally looked like a completely different kid. It brought tears to my eyes to see just how amazing he looked, and his family was so proud to show off his new smile. They sent him off to get cleaned up, and we had an hour long photo shoot with everyone in the family. I'm going to try and get the photos printed out and try and send them back to his village with someone from Tamba. I'm so happy I got the opportunity to visit his family and follow up on one of the best experiences of my Peace Corps service.

Grandma, me, Abdou, an aunt, and Xabi in front of Abdou's hut

Building Toilets: and you though your job was crappy!

One of the platforms waiting to be placed over the hole

Crappy! Get it? Because they're toilets...sorry, I couldn't resist. Actually, all things considered I would say this was my most successful project in village yet. The funding came in pretty quickly (thanks everyone who donated!), my expectations were realistic (I knew it was going to take forever and that was ok), and the community took major ownership of the project and was really proactive in getting it done. Several months ago I made a map of my village and my work partner and I did a formal survey of all of the latrines in Sambande to assess the need for a latrine project. It turns out there were only 14 functional latrines, in a village of over 500 people, and families who didn't have a latrine were just going out into the bush to do their business (no wonder I'm always sick!). So we called a village-wide meeting and told them something they already knew, but this time with a colorful map to highlight just how inadequate Sambande's sanitation situation was.

Announcing the lottery winners

Step one in solving the problem was to elect a sanitation committee, to put the villagers completely in charge of the project. They then elected a president and started meeting right away to discuss the logistics of the project. They calculated how many latrines could be made with the available funds, made a list of families interested in participating and then held a lottery to decide which 30 houses would get latrines. Since we were trying to complete as many latrines as possible on a really tight budget, the sanitation committee opted for the simplest design; A 1.5x1.5 meter platform re-enforced with rebar that is meant to last at least 10 years. When the underlying hole is full or becomes too unstable, the platform can be picked up by a few strong men and moved to cover a new hole.

Digging is hard work

 In order to stretch the money as far as possible each family that received a latrine had to dig their own 1x3 meter hole, provide rocks and sand to mix with the cement and pay a mason $3 for the construction. The grant money paid for two bars of rebar and two sacks of cement for each latrine. This not only allowed us to build the maximum number of latrines, it also ensured that anyone getting a latrine was really interested. Each family was given two months to dig their hole and collect the necessary rocks and sand, and of the 30 recipients only six didn't have enough motivation to get it done, so those latrines were auctioned off to different households.

Building latrines is a family affair

.The thing that made this project so successful was the amount of ownership my village took of it.  The president of our sanitation committee was the most motivated person I have worked with in Senegal yet, and he took complete control of the project, making me almost obsolete. Essentially my only role was to act as the bank, and provide the money when it was time to purchase supplies, which is just the way it should be. All of the planning came from the community members, they made all of the major decisions and did all of the work. In a country where most people are conditioned to wait for NGOs to come in and solve all of their problems, I couldn't be more proud of the way my villagers stepped up to tackle their own issues.

Cleanliness is Next to Godliness

"Microbes" demonstration

One of the toughest parts of our jobs at Peace Corps Volunteers is trying to facilitate what we like to call "behavior change." Old habits die hard, and trying to convince someone to make even a small adjustment in their everyday actions is a very difficult sell, especially when it is a practice that has been around for generations. After almost two years of trying to convince people of "alternative solutions" and "best practices," many of us older volunteers begin to question whether or not we should even be tackling some of these issues. After all, who are we to insist that all sick people should be immediately taken to the local health post when the traditional healers have been serving the people's needs for hundreds of years?

Certainly on many issues there is room for compromise, but some things are more cut and dry. Like washing your hands with soap before eating or preparing meals. In a country where your left hand serves as your all purpose toilet paper, tissue and diaper changer, you would think a good soapy lather before meals would be a no-brainier. Instead, everyone lightly dips their eating hand into the same bowl of dirty water before chowing down, and uses the same bowl to "wash" their hands and mouths after the meal. Its tough to teach an old dog new tricks, and despite my best impression of a broken record  it has so far been impossible to convince the adults in the village that the cost of a .50 cent bar of soap per month is worth the prevention of diarrhea. That's where the kids come in.

Transferring germs

Just like learning to love vegemite, or becoming a gymnast, or being brainwashed into a cult, its best to start 'em young. Ideally I would start with babies in the womb, but all I had was a gaggle of elementary school students, so I had to work with what I could get. Senegalese adults have a deeply ingrained resistance to trying new things, but the children hear are curious and open-minded, and most importantly, willing to play along with everything the weird American asks them to do. With that in mind, a met a group of about 60 kids on the steps of the school last Saturday morning, with the hope of changing a few minds, and at the very least having some fun. My counterpart Ngor, a school director in another village, started off the day with a lesson on germs ("microbes") that many of the kids had heard before in school. He explained what germs were, where they come from and how they can get inside our bodies and make us sick.

Demonstrating proper technique

Getting kids here to believe that something so small it is invisible can do them harm is a lot tougher than convincing American kids of a magical tutu-wearing fairy that comes in the dead of night to trade your discarded teeth for shiny quarters, so for good measure we threw in a demonstration. I coated one child's hand with glitter, and told everyone to think of the little specks of colorful glass as microbes. I then asked him to shake hands with a fellow classmate in greeting, and had them both display their hands to the class. Lo and behold, the microbes had transferred from one students hand to the next! I then asked them each to dip their hand quickly into a bowl of water, as if they were about to sit down to lunch, and then show their hands to the group again. Now, not only were they both still covered in microbes, but the water in the bowl was filled with them too. All of the students agreed that putting your hand in a bowl of water wouldn't make it clean, so I gave each of the students a dab of soap and a kettle of water and asked them to demonstrate to the group how they would wash their hands to get all of the microbes off. After rubbing and rinsing for about 30 seconds under a clean stream of water, they presented their hands one more time and were declared microbe-free by the group. To give the kids a time frame for washing their hands and enforce the message, we taught them a little song to the tune of "row row row your boat." Laxad, laxad, laxad xa bay (wash wash wash the hands) / Laxad xa bay a paax (wash the hands a lot) / Bar o wec safu of (dont forget your soap) / Laxadi boo te fax (wash until they're good)

Making promises

Once all the learning was done it was time for a game. We made two teams of 5 and had them each stand in a line. The first kid received a handful of "microbes" and was asked to turn around and greet the person behind him, who would greet the person behind them and so on until the first persons germs had been transferred to the whole team. Then they began a relay race to see which team could wash their hands clean the fastest. It just so happens that the race ended in a tie, which was a good way to enforce the lesson that "everybody wins when we wash our hands with soap." To seal the deal we brought out a large banner with the words "I will wash my hands with soap" written in Seereer across the top, and asked all of the kids who agreed to sign it as a contract by tracing their handprint and writing their name. The banner will be hung at the school as a daily reminder of their promise and of what they learned.

Pinata construction

To round out the day we hung a pinata (made by my brothers and sisters the night before) full of sample-size soaps, candy and stickers from the low limb of a baobab tree and let the kids have at it. The barely-contained excitement of the spectators on the outer circle quickly turned to chaos when the pinata burst open and there was an all out war to get at the goodies. I counted three kids that came out of the pile bleeding, clutching their hard-earned treats with grins on their faces. Certainly an exciting end to the morning.


Its hard to say whether or not any of the kids who attended the session will begin washing their hands with soap, but I hope we were at least able to plant the seeds of the idea in their impressionable little minds. As I near the end of my service I'll be spending most of my time wrapping up all of my projects, so it will be up to future volunteers to water them and re-enforce the message.

All Aboard the Smile Train

The doctors and nurses of GSF and Barthemee hospital

Little Mohammed Ka before surgery...

At the beginning of November I was given the honor of working with a group of thirteen American doctors and nurses from the Global Smile Foundation who came to Barthimee Hospital in Thies to do cleft lip surgeries. In just four short days they were able to completely transform the faces (and lives) of thirty patients, from infants to adults, as well as provide additional training to a group of Senegalese doctors who perform cleft surgery locally. As a Peace Corps volunteer my role was to translate between the American staff and the Senegalese patients and families, as well as provide an extra set of hands wherever they were needed. I spent most of my time in the PACU, where the patients were taken to recover from the anesthesia, playing with babies and reassuring mothers and translating instructions for families. I also got to be in the operating room for a couple of surgeries to watch the magic unfold.

...and after!

Cleft lips and palates aren't as prevalent in Africans as they are in other people groups, but when they do occur in countries like Senegal the odds that the family will find treatment for the child are pretty low. Not only are many cleft patients born into poor families who live far from medical care, but those families also rarely understand anything about the deformity or know it can be repaired. There are a lot of superstitions in Senegal, and many of the families we spoke to believed that the cleft was caused because someone scared the pregnant mother while she was sleeping, or because a cow looked the baby directly in the eye while it was in the womb, or simply because Allah willed it. Although they can make it difficult for a baby to breast feed, cleft lips and palates are rarely life threatening conditions, but in a culture where the smallest difference makes you a social outcast they can still be largely debilitating. It was amazing to see just how life-changing a one hour surgery could be. All of the patients looked so natural after surgery it was almost impossible to remember what they had looked like before.

Abdou Ba right before his surgery, still smiling!

One of my favorite patients of the week was Abdou Ba, a 10 year old Pulaar boy from the Tamba region with a complete bilateral cleft lip as well as a cleft hard and soft palate. I met him several days before the surgeries began when he arrived at the Peace Corps training center with his uncle, also named Abdou Ba, to stay with us throughout the course of the surgeries. Despite his major facial deformities and a pretty serious speech impediment he had the most outgoing and social personality of any Senegalese kid I've ever met. Everyone at the center, volunteers and guards alike, immediately fell in love with him and spoiled him rotten in the days before the doctors arrived. His charm wasn't lost on the Americans either, and he quickly became a staff favorite at the hospital. He was born in a small village in southern Senegal and when his father passed away shortly after he was born his mother remarried and moved to the north, and left him with his uncle Abdou, the man he was named after. Because of the speech impediment caused by his cleft palate he was unable to attend school, but his uncle did his best to give him a normal life and when he heard about the possibility of getting surgery through an NGO he made the 6 hour, $20 journey to Thies several times for screenings from other organizations before being approved for the operation by the doctors of the Global Smile Foundation.

To understand just how amazing this is, you have to first understand that Senegalese men are only marginally involved in the raising of their children and are almost never the primary care givers, and second realize that $20 is an obscene amount of money to the average Senegalese villager. Abdou was the only patient not accompanied by a mother or aunt, yet his uncle was by far one of the most nurturing and competent care takers there. It was really heart-warming to see the special relationship between the two of them, and to see just how much Abdou's uncle cared for him. All of the surgeries were amazing, but the fantastic job the doctors did on this particular case actually brought tears to my eyes. In just two hours he became a completely different person, and after the incision heals and the swelling goes down I don't think anyone will even give him a second glance on the street. He will still have difficulties with speech thanks to the enormous hole in his palate, but his uncle seems committed to finding him the help he needs no matter what the cost, so hopefully he will be able to receive further treatment from another organization.

Abdou just one hour after his surgery, still a  little groggy
but looking pretty good!

   Working with the people from Global Smile Foundation was the single most rewarding experience of my time in Senegal so far. So much of the work we do as Peace Corps volunteers revolves around behavior change and long-term initiatives, and by the time they start actually taking effect our short two-year service is long over. It was so refreshing to work on a project that provided such dramatic and immediate results. We could actually see people's lives being improved right before our eyes, and know that it was a permanent and lasting change. Both the families and the doctors were so thankful for our small contribution to the efforts, and it was then that I realized how infrequently I hear the words "thank you" associated with any of my work here. Not that I'm volunteering just so I can be thanked, but it feels really good to be recognized and appreciated every once and a while. Working with the American's was also a real treat...it almost felt like being back home. Everything was organized, efficient and timely, and we were given clear instructions and a specific task to be done, and then trusted to do it! They were also amazingly kind and accommodating, allowing us to observe and being patient while answering all of our questions about the procedures. Best of all they spoiled us rotten with dinner at nice restaurants and treats from America!

Abdou's before and after shots

After working and talking extensively with the nurses with GSF, I've actually been entertaining the idea of going into nursing. Its not a career path I'd ever given any thought to before, but the more I think about it the more I wonder why it has never crossed my mind? I really enjoyed working with the patients and feeling like I was really helping people, and the medical-related classes in my Exercise Science major were always my favorites. I haven't made up my mind about anything yet, but with my service rapidly drawing to a close (5 more months!) I've been doing a lot of thinking about what my next steps might be. If I did go to nursing school it wouldn't be right away, I would want to save up some money for a year or two before going back to school for any reason, but it's certainly something to look into. Who knows, maybe these cleft surgeries will end up changing my life as well?!

The Latest Goings On

"Zazu Bird"

As promised, here are a few bits and pieces from my last month or so at site. Its been a bit of a slow month as I wait to see if my latrine grant will be approved for funding. In no particular order, here is how I've filled my time:

Showing off the germs

Global Hand Washing Day  

October 15th was Global Hand Washing Day, and my neighbor Aimee and I celebrated it in her village with a hand washing demonstration with the kids. Aimee led most of the session and I was just there for moral support and crowd control. We started out with an explanation about germs, given by the local health worker, and then moved on to some hand's on demonstrations. Using glitter to represent "microbes," we showed the kids how just dipping your hand into a bowl of water, the way most families "wash up" before meals, doesn't remove all of the germs. Then we had the kinds wash their hands with soap and lo and behold all the germs were gone! Then we demonstrated how germs get transmitted from person to person by coating one child's hand and having them shake hands with the kids around them. We wrapped up the day with a hand washing relay race and a banner pledging "I will wash my hands with soap" that all the children signed by applying their hand-print in paint (and since it was automobile paint, the only kind available here, the kids subsequently spent the next 45 minutes trying to wash it off their hands, thus reinforcing the message).

Kids in their back to school T-shirts and hats,
thanks to "Uncle Mike"

Back To SchoolAt some point this month the kids are scheduled to start going back to school. The school "opened" on October 6th, meaning all of the teachers showed up and had the students weed the school yard and sweep out the classrooms, at which point they promptly disappeared for two weeks. There has been some activity at the school these last two days, so perhaps the real learning will start soon. As soon as the school is back on a regular schedule we will start back up with the school garden. The womens' group has been taking care of it over the rainy season, but besides a healthy crop of eggplant there isn't much going on in the garden right now.

Sidewalk Chalk Goes Vertical
My brother who lives in Dakar recently started construction on the first ever cement structure in our compound. Its a one-room building with a small 4x4 foot porch and a little closet, for his wife and new baby. As exciting as it is to build something that will last more than two rainy seasons, its not exactly the most beautiful addition to the middle of our compound. A bag of sidewalk chalk and a handful of my little brothers quickly remedied that situation.

Found: Cutest Puppy Ever

On the way to the road town I found a lone puppy, in the middle of the path in the middle of nowhere. I searched the road town for his mother but couldn't find her, and he was too small to be left on his own, so I took him home. I named him Mo' which means "lost" in Seereer. I knew I couldn't adopt a dog here, because I would fall in love and have to take it back to America, so I spent a week trying to find it a new home. Eventually the woman that runs the French Epicerie in Kaolack adopted him, so now I can rest easy knowing he'll be well taken care of.

Latrine Project
Before writing my latrine grant I went from household to household in my village to observe the bathroom situation and make this map. The compounds shaded in grey are part of the Wolof neighborhood, where I can't work because the Imam who controls it refuses to work with white people, or women, or both, I'm not really sure. The compounds shaded in green have a functioning latrine, and the compounds shaded in red have no latrine facilities at all and have to go out to the fields to do number 2. As you can see, the red far outweighs the green, so we're in serious need of some latrine building. Hopefully my grant application will be approved, and we will be able to build at least 15 more latrines spread around the village.

I've got the bullet hole, now I just need to come up with a
good story

Badge of Honor


Something funny happens when you enter the Peace Corps... things that should be deeply personal and embarrassing suddenly become a source of pride. Poop your pants? Call your neighbor! Diarrhea and vomit at the same time? Announce it to every volunteer you meet! We are constantly exchanging stories, comparing and contrasting diseases, and discoursing on bowel movement consistency. Its probably some sort of coping mechanism...a way of reassuring yourself that you aren't the only one suffering these horrors, and bonding with your fellow volunteers. So when I developed a skin infection on my leg at the beginning of the rainy season, a fate that every single volunteer suffers at some point during their service as a result of wading through feces infested waters, I wasn't ashamed. Actually, I was a bit proud. When it persisted a month, and then two months,  I started to get a little worried, but other volunteers found it absolutely fascinating. The first thing out of their mouths when they found out the reason for the bandages was "Oooh let me see!" Then followed a hearty discussion about similar conditions, possible diagnoses, and alternative treatments. Three months, two tubes of neosporin, a bottle of hospital disinfectant and a full round of antibiotics later, the little infection that could was still going strong, so I made a trip to the med office in Dakar to have it checked out. Turns out I had a strep infection, yea like the kind in your throat, in my skin. Nothing an extremely painful pressure-washing, another 14 day course of penicillin and a bunch of fluffly clean bandages can't cure...right? We're now on month four, and although the infection is gone and its beginning to heal, the crater in my leg has far from disappeared. Its going to leave a terrible scar, one that I'll wear as a badge of honor, at least as long as I'm in Senegal. But you can bet I'll be making a trip to the dermatologist not long after I get home.

I Can Show You The World...

Last week I finally finished the giant world map mural at our school in Sambande. Like the one we painted in Fasstoucouleur it takes up the entire back wall of the classroom and is over 7 feet tall. Each continent is labeled and each country numbered, and there is a corresponding key painted on the side of the cabinet next to the map. Once you've conquered the world there isn't really anywhere else to go, and I feel ready to hang up my paint brushes and put and end to my muraling career. Not that I couldn't be convinced to come out of retirement to help paint at another volunteer's site or do a training session with new volunteers, but I don't want to be buying any more paint or starting any more big projects in Sambande.

Corresponding list of continents and countries

Muraling by the Numbers:Murals painted in Senegal: 26

Mural trainings taught: 2

Villages muraled in: 6

Cans of paint purchased: 56

Days spent muraling: 43

In case you were wondering, this is where I am!

Shhh, Be Vewy Vewy Quiet, I'm Raising Rabbits

Aput and Xa Ju'ua (lunch and dinner), my breeding pair

How often do you eat meat? Assuming you're not a vegetarian, I'm willing to bet the number is somewhere around 7 times a week...an average of one meal containing animal protein per day. In my village, as in most villages across Senegal, we're lucky to get meat once a month, and that would be one chicken shared between 9 adults and 12 children. A lack of protein in the diet isn't as big of a threat to people's health here as a lack of vegetables since most of our meals contain dried fish (literally just a fish, dried to leather in the sun), but it is certainly a threat to my tastebuds. That's where Bugs Bunny comes in.

The hutch built by my counterpart and I.
I was feeling patriotic on painting day!

I had been toying with the idea of raising chickens, but I couldn't stand the thought of adding more noise to the cacophony that is our compound. My newest rule is "if it crows, it goes," one feathered 4am alarm clock is enough. After rejecting the roosters I turned my mind toward other readily-available sources of protein. Cows are strictly for Pulaars to herd. Goats and sheep require too much space and food, and as I've been waging war against my aunt's goats for almost a year trying to keep them out of my garden I didn't fancy adding to their ranks. Rats and monitor lizards are another option here if you're a good trapper, but although I've got a seemingly endless supply of rats invading my yard and hut I don't fancy trying to cultivate them and monitor lizards, although delicious, don't provide much meat. That leaves just one option: Rabbits. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Rabbits don't moo, crow, bray or baa. They are one of the most efficient animals and produce an astounding amount of meat for every kilogram of fodder. Rabbits aren't picky eaters and its easy to find something for them to eat year round, even in the desert. Best of all they reproduce like, well, like rabbits! Two rabbits today quickly becomes twenty rabbits tomorrow, and so for a small initial investment I have guaranteed myself a steady supply of meat for the rest of my service. If things go really well I might even consider writing a grant to extend rabbit husbandry to other compounds in the village. We'll see how it goes.

 

My brother Samba with Xa ju'ua

Camp de Conaissance et Croissance

Group Photo, campers and counselors

At the end of June the volunteers of Kaolack region hosted a summer leadership camp for 40 local teenage girls who had just completed 5eme (8th grade) and were in the top 10 of their class. The purpose of the camp was to empower and inspire local girls and open their eyes to opportunities for their future beyond, or perhaps in spite of, early marriage. Each day involved leadership and team building games, crafts, sports and educational workshops that related to the day's theme. My main job at the camp was to work with the Seereer women in the kitchen managing the pantry and making sure meals came out on time, but I escaped the heat of the cooking fire to teach swim lessons and lend a helping hand with other sessions where needed. It was a long week, but worth all of the hard work to help provide such a unique and valuable experience for the girls. 

 Monday's theme was Identity, and journal prompts, discussions and sessions focused on how the girls viewed themselves and how they identified their roles in society and in their families. Individuality is stamped out of kids by the school system at a pretty early age, so sometimes it can be tough to get Senegalese people, especially women, to view themselves as unique. Group think is extremely influential in this culture and sometimes it can be difficult to get a girl to step outside the box and express original view or opinions, even about herself, that might be different from the crowd. The girls started off the morning with yoga (a daily occurrence at the camp) and then spent an hour personalizing journals with photos cut from magazines that expressed something about their personality. These journals were used each morning to record the girls thoughts, prompted by several questions relating to the days theme, and then again in the evening as part of group discussions with their Senegalese counselors. The first day went really smoothly, and as the day wore on the girls began to adjust to the rhythms of an American-style summer camp and really started to open up and enjoy themselves. We ended the day with a big camp fire and sang songs and taught the girls how to make s'mores.

The journal of Ami Mbodji, one of the girls from my village

Tuesdays theme was Health, and the big session of the day was an anonymous Q&A with several volunteers and a local midwife. Girls wrote questions on pieces of paper about everything from rape and violence, to sexual health and birth control, to pregnancy and periods and then they were read aloud to the group and answered. In a culture where sexual education is severely lacking and "general knowledge" is mostly just myths and superstitions, opportunities for women to receive accurate information about their own bodies are rare. The girls also attended sessions on making neem lotion (a natural mosquito repellent), fitness and exercise, and healthy cooking. The day ended with a spa night. Pedicures and facials and nail polish galore.

Tug-of-war

Wednesday was all about the Environment. In the morning we sent the girls off on a pirogue (boat) ride through the mangrove forest to a protected island with a local environmentalist, earning those of us who got up at 5am to cook pancakes for all 60 people at the camp a much needed break. In the afternoon the girls learned how to make a tree nursery and a container garden, and then participated in a team Olympics. We topped the day off with the movie Fern Gully, dubbed in French and projected onto a bedsheet along with popcorn and juice.

Counselors taking a hard-earned break

Thursday we spent the day talking about Gender. Girls were asked to contemplate what it means to be a woman, and were pushed to challenge conventional gender roles in society. In Senegal being female, especially in a small village, makes you little more than a baby-making machine. Many girls are pulled out of school early and married off at a young age, to men typically 10-15 years older than them. My 15 year old sister in Sambande has been married for over two years now, although she doesn't yet live with her husband, and my 29 year old brother just married a 17 year old girl. Women are the ones who cook, clean, work in the fields, take care of children, wash clothes and cater to the husbands every whim. Men are the ones who "provide for the family" by farming during the three rainy months of the year, or working as masons, taxi drivers or shop owners. We asked the girls to re-think traditional gender roles and consider the possibility that girls might be able to play sports and men can do laundry and cook. The girls spent the afternoon making friendship bracelets and tie-dye Tshirts and we taught them how to play softball and ultimate frisbee. In the evening a local drumming group came in and we held a Sabaar (dance party) for the girls.

 

A Fire eater at the dance party on Thursday night

Friday, the last day of camp, was career day. Building on the foundation of the day before, we examined opportunities for girls to do something other than pop out babies for the rest of their lives. We had several guest speakers talk about their own lives and careers, including teachers, midwives and business owners. One of the first questions the girls always asked was "are you married?" They wanted to know if it was possible to be someones wife and still have a career as a strong, independent woman. The answer was an inspirational "yes." The girls also discussed various jobs that were seen as either for men, for women, or for both and counselors gave examples of women performing and succeeding in male-dominated professions. The girls talked about what they wanted to be when they grew up, and there were some surprising answers. The most popular answers were teacher and midwife, but girls also expressed the desire to become lawyers, doctors, policewomen, firefighters and entrepreneurs. At the end of the day each group of girls performed a skit that they had worked on with their Senegalese counselors all week, based around one of the themes of the camp.

I think the girls that attended camp got a lot out of the week. They made some good memories, lasting friendships and learned valuable lessons, but most importantly they had fun. Girls in this country rarely get the opportunity to just have a good time, because as soon as they get home from school they have to take on the responsibilities of a grown woman...cooking, cleaning and collecting firewood while their brothers run off and play. It was nice to give these young women a chance to get away from their responsibilities and give them time to learn and grow and think about their futures.

Zanzibar Island

the boat that I snorkeled from anchored off Prison Island

   Zanzibar was the final stop on my vacation, and I didn't have any real plans other than take the ferry over from Dar es Salaam and find somewhere to stay, since a lot of what I wanted to do on the island was dependent on how much money was left in my budget at the end of the trip. I managed to be pretty frugal throughout my travels so I was able to have a really nice time in Zanzibar instead of just sitting in the airport waiting to go home like I feared would happen. I left Dar es Salaam at noon on June 2nd for what was supposed to be a 3 hour ferry ride. Four and a half hours later I arrived in Stone Town, and immediately 

Neighbor fish in their sea-anemone home

began winding my way through the narrow streets looking for the nearest dala dala stand. I had plans to stay at the Zanzibari on the north end of the island thanks to the generosity of Mike, my fellow climber on Kilimanjaro who had paid for 5 nights but could only stay for three. The 60 kilometer ride to the north end on the island on the dala (truck cab with a long open bed that is crammed with people) only cost me $2, as opposed to $45 for a taxi, but it made frequent stops and took about two and a half hours and by the time I arrived in Nungwe it was dark. My plan had been to either walk to the hotel if it was close to the bus stop or negotiate a cheap taxi or motorcycle ride, but all of that went out the window when the dala reached the end of the line; a dead-end dirt road in an impoverished residential area with no resorts, taxis or tourists in sight. With no other choice I hoisted my baggage onto my head african-style and began walking, reasoning that as long as I was moving I wasn't lost. I got vague directions from a man at a shop who insisted it was "very far," but with no vehicles in sight my only option was to try and walk there. Stumbling over uneven dirt roads in the pitch dark with 40 pounds of luggage (remember, I still had all my Kili gear) with absolutely no idea how far it was to my destination reduced me to tears pretty quickly as I imagined bandits and murderers around every corner. Finally, an hour later a local guy took pity on me and led me right to the hotel, and I arrived sobbing, sweaty and scared out of my mind at the most amazing place I have ever stayed in my life, making the whole ordeal totally worth it. After a glorious shower with real water pressure and variable temperature and a 3 course dinner that included free drinks thanks to a sympathetic bartender I collapsed into my enormous canopy bed for the most amazing sleep of my life.

Snorkeling at the reef off of Prison Island

The next morning I woke up early, ate an amazing breakfast and hiked back out to the road to catch another dala dala back to Stone Town. In the daylight the walk was short and actually quite pleasant, and everyone was so friendly that I felt a little bit embarrassed about my freak out the night before. Living in Senegal has really destroyed my trust in people and I realized that next morning that although it is important to be wary, there aren't murderers and thieves hiding around every corner in Zanzibar. Other than that one night, I never once felt like I was in an unsafe situation on my trip, and the majority of Tanzanians are extremely friendly and really just want to get to know you (more on that later).

Just in case you were tempted to ride the 185 year old tortoise

In Stone Town I rented a room on the third floor of an old house right outside the Darajani market. I mostly stuck to the Old City and spent the week exploring the narrow streets and alleyways, looking at the shops and marveling at the intricately carved doorways and architecture that was a a mix of Swahili, Arab, Persian and Indian architecture thanks to its ancient role as a center of trade. The maze-like streets aren't wide enough for cars so wandering around them sort of feels like stepping back in time, especially as I came across historical buildings like the former Sultan's Palace, the Hamamni Baths, the Old Fort, and several cathedrals, mosques and sites associated with the slave trade. The is a lot of culture and history to be soaked in on the island  and I tried to make the most of it.

A plethora of freshly caught and grilled seafood at Forodhani
Gardens night market

On my second day in town I stepped into an excursion office on a whim and ended up joining a group that was going out to Prison Island to snorkel. Our boat, the Gladiator, took us out at 1pm to a coral reef just off the north side of the island and we spent about an hour just skimming along the surface admiring all of the beautiful underwater flora and fauna. The weather turned a bit stormy but since we were already wet it didn't matter, and by the time we went to the island to visit the tortoise sanctuary the clouds had cleared and the sun was shining again. After feeding spinach a 185 year old tortoise and taking a short walk around the island we headed back to the mainland for a drink at the sunset bar. Around 8pm I walked down the waterfront to Forodhani Gardens where every night the fishermen set up tables with white linen cloths and oil lamps and grill up whatever they caught for the day. Kebabs of lobster, octopus, shrimp, mussels and various types of fish are served with freshly baked chapattis and breads for just a dollar each. I chose a warm garlic pita and two skewers of reef shark and vegetables and was not disappointed.

Dolphin watching off the southern tip of the island

I returned the next night alone for an encore, and shortly after sitting down with my plate I was approached by a young Tanzanian man in his early twenties who wanted to sit and chat. In Senegal, anyone who wants to talk with you ultimately wants something, and especially men will usually ask to marry you within the first 3 minutes of the conversation, so I was a bit wary. Still I was in a good mood and stuffed with seafood so I politely answered his questions in what turned out to be perfect English. When he found out I had never tasted freshly squeezed sugar cane juice he disappeared and returned 5 minutes later with a cool glass and two straws. We sat and chatted about Senegal and Tanzania and traded Swahili and Seereer vocabulary until almost midnight when the vendors began dismantling their tables, and then he walked me home. He never once asked me to marry him, or for a visa, or made any indication that he wanted anything from me other than pleasant conversation. It was actually one of the nicest "dates" I've ever been on, and when he kissed me on the cheek and asked if he could see me the next day I agreed and we made plans to meet in the park. We met the next morning and spent the day sitting on a bench talking about everything from science to politics until well after lunchtime, and when we parted ways I was actually a bit disappointed that I wouldn't be seeing him again

Red Colubus Monkey in Jozani Forest

On my. last day on the island I signed up for a tour to swim with dolphins off the southern end of the island and met at 8am for the tour. It was windy and the seas were extremely rough (prompting several passengers to go "chumming" over the side of the boat), and it was actually better to see the dolphins from the boat than to jump in the water every time they swam past since none of them seemed inclined to stay and visit. After a couple of hours of battling the swells we returned to shore, but not before the tide went out, forcing us to wade100 yards through thigh deep, jellyfish infested waters alternately getting stung and stumbling on hidden rocks. After squeezing lemon juice on our stings (none of us were very inclined to pee on ourselves) we had a nice lunch on the beach before heading over to Jozani forest to see Red Colubus Monkeys, a species native only to Zanzibar that evolved without a thumb. After my tour I returned to my room to pack up my things and had street food in the Darajani night market for dinner before heading to the airport to wait for my 3:30am flight to Addis Ababa. I spent a miserable, mosquito infested night sleeping in a chair in the open-air waiting area before checking in at midnight and finally boarding my plane at 3am.

School Garden

O bugaanga daam a koy no kop ale kaa waaraa naay o ndong o ndong.

If you want to catch a monkey in the forest you have to walk slowly.

This Seereer proverb is so fitting for describing work in Senegal. Nothing happens quickly. Projects take time. Big projects take even more time. If you want something done well, expect to do a lot of waiting. At the end of January I submitted a grant application to USAID for fencing and tools to start a garden at our school. We received funding at the end of February and began purchasing supplies. It took nearly the entire month of March for the fencing to be installed, and after that a two-week surprise school vacation put the project on hold. Patience is key when working in this country. So now, three months after the official start of the project, we are finally beginning to garden. I suppose all good things come to those who wait.

Machete: the Senegalese equivalent to WD-40  or duct tape.
Fixes any problem, anywhere, anytime.

Last week I stopped by the school to discuss a timeline for the next couple of weeks. We needed to begin planning and digging garden beds, fill sacks for our tree nursery and start a vegetable pepiniere. I expected to come away with a vague idea of when these things would be done. Instead, I witnessed an entire class of  11-13 years olds mobilized into an army of shovel, rake and machete wielding gardeners. In the span of one morning (when they should have been memorizing their textbooks), the oldest students measured and double dug eight 1x3 meter garden beds and committed to planting a tree nursery the very next day. The monkey has yet to be caught, but I think we've got him cornered up a tree.

Our school director handing out tree sacks to enthusiastic students

The next morning, during their lunch break, the entire student body showed up to help fill sacks for the tree nursery. Everyone from the oldest class down to the five year olds participated; some were sifting sand, others hauled buckets of water, and everyone pitching in to fill up the bags. The kids' enthusiasm was inspiring. Watching them get so excited about manual labor in the hot African sun made me realize just how little hands-on learning kids get to participate in. The Senegalese education system is largely based on rote memorization. Kids recite their lessons in class, copy them down in their notebooks, read and re-read them at home and then are expected to regurgitate them word-for-word on the next exam. Having this garden will give kids an opportunity to get out of the classroom, apply some of their math and science lessons in real world situations and develop some practical skills in gardening.

Filling the tree sacks with a manure/sand mixture

In the afternoon we came back and planted over 200 trees in the nursery. Moringa, Leucena, Cashew, Papaya and Flamboyant. Inshallah these trees will be ready for outplanting in several months, just as the rainy season is beginning. Each student will be given their own tree to "adopt" and plant somewhere on school grounds along with a meter of chicken wire to protect it from the goats and cows. Hopefully in several years our currently barren schoolyard will be green and shady, and the students will have a sense of pride and ownership in the beautification of their school.

Using multiplication to figure out the number of tree sacks filled