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This post by Fellow, Alec Yeh has been Cross-posted from the Current TV News blog.

Q: What are your first impressions?
Things here are incredibly different, even from Dakar [the capital]. Being in the village is just a lot more downtime. Things seem to move at a slower pace, and it isn’t a bad thing at all. People here genuinely seem so happy. But the weird thing is, they yearn to immigrate to a western country, where they can hope for a better life. It’s interesting that outwardly, they can be so happy, yet also want a better life. Everybody in the village is so incredibly nice. Nothing like Dakar. Dakar has that city feel to it, and you don’t get to know as many people, such as your neighbors. Here in the village, people know everybody, and upon my arrival, I already feel incorporated into the community. I stick out like a sore thumb, but nonetheless, they’ve been nothing but accommodating.

Q: How does your new home compare to where you live in the US?
Well, obviously it’s different. You don’t have the amenities that you had in the US. But it’s not necessarily worse. Somethings may be, but some things are better. For example, bugs fall from my ceiling. That’s something that doesn’t happen. I have a toilet at home, and a hole here. I have a shower at home, and a bucket here. But nonetheless, here, there’s camaraderie. Here, there’s this solidarity, this idea of “we’re in it all together.” That’s something I’ve never, and probably will ever, experience in the US.

Q: What are some of the local issues facing the community you’re in?
That’s easy. Unemployment. Everybody here wants a job. Yet there are so many young, able bodied men here, that simply can’t get a job. People just lounge here. They sit around and make tea and talk. And it’s not their fault at all. They’re so incredibly bored, and they yearn to do something. But with no jobs, they actually don’t have anything to do. I don’t think I will ever forget what my host brother said. I asked him “how many times a day to you make and drink attaya [tea]?” He answered, “sometimes three, sometimes ten. Who knows? You know, we come together to make attaya to talk and forget about our problems. We don’t have jobs here. There are no jobs. You know, I have my college degree, most of us do.”

Q: How are those issues indicative of bigger global challenges or trends?
I think it’s indicative in two ways. One, the fact that with globalization, with media, and with kids like me, people in third world countries sees how the other half lives. This gives them to desire, the want, the yearn to try and improve their position. Though they might never do that, it’s still there. That idea of wanting better is stronger than ever, which is why there’s so much immigration. The second way is that it challenges governments to be creative, and to create jobs and opportunities where you think there could be none. That’s what’s needed.

Q: How does what happens in this community affect the folks back home in the US? And the other way around – How do lives and decisions in the US affect the community you’re in now?
Well the first one for me, is just the fact that they’re making such an impact on foreigners. I’m going home, a changed person. And I can’t express my gratitude to them. It’s something thats invaluable. It’s irreplaceable. And I’m hopefully going to go back and do something about it. I think my answer to the second half is in answer number 4. They see how the other half lives. It gives them a new picture of what’s out there, and what could be achieved. It may be a bad thing, or it may be great. I don’t know. Only time can tell.

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Imagine being the Minister of Health in a country like the United States. Your jobs pretty important right? You spent a long time acquiring the degrees and credentials to be the Minister of Health. Now imagine being paid a salary of 26,000 dollars a year. If a minister’s salary is that much, imagine what the average citizen would make.

However, you’re lucky enough to even be making anything in Senegal. Like so many young men, my host brother doesn’t have a job. It’s not because he doesn’t want one, and it’s not because he’s stupid. There simply aren’t enough jobs in Senegal. Without jobs, imagine how bored these men get. Imagine how unhappy they are.

All the unemployed young men here sit and make tea. They sometimes take the occasional nap. They sometimes change locations, but they are always doing the same thing; and that is lounging and making tea. They don’t want to be drinking and making tea all day, but they actually have nothing else to do. Attaya is also their socializing time, so often times I join them.

There are two things they talk about the most; that is politics and America. They really detest the government here. There is so much discontent. You can hear it in their tones; see it in their eyes. I can’t understand the language here, but I always know when they’re talking about their government. The incredible resentment and anger in their voices punches you right in the face. The biggest problems in their government, according to them, are corruption and unemployment. The President was allegedly “re-elected” in a fixed election. He decided to increase the numbers of years in a term to seven. President Wade is probably going to run for a third term in 2012. He’s already very old. Then there’s unemployment. Like I said, there are so many young men able to work. It’s ridiculous. But there are simply no jobs to work. No wonder they’re discontent. No wonder they’re bored. No wonder they talk about America so much.

They ask me so much about America. “What is like there? How much money do people make? How much is a car there? Can I buy a house there? How much does a hamburger cost? Don’t they have machines that do your laundry? Isn’t Obama great?” The questions go on and on. I developed some pictures of family, friends, and some of my cakes to show them. The reaction to my cakes was not what I expected. I thought it’d be great to start conversation. Instead, I heard, “Cakes made of ice cream whenever you want. That’s the American Dream.”

I don’t think I will ever forget what my host brother said. I asked him “How many times a day do you make and drink attaya?” He answered, “Sometimes three, sometimes ten. Who knows? You know, we come together to make attaya to talk and forget about our problems. We don’t have jobs here. There are no jobs. You know, I have my college degree, most of us do.”

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Kids will seriously put anything in their mouths. Anything. If it looks like it’ll fit, they’ll try it. And if doesn’t look like it’ll fit, they sure as hell going to make it fit.

I woke up one morning, tied up my mosquito net, brushed my teeth and got dressed. I go to put on some chap stick. I open it, and a huge chunk is missing, with teeth marks riddled all around it.

I then go out to have breakfast with the family. But as I was eating, I was watching Aminata, the one year old. She crawls away and proceeds to stick dried bird poop in her mouth. I guess she decides it isn’t bad, and goes for another helping. After that, why not try a leaf? Okay okay, you must be thinking “Why in the world would you just watch?” Well, after eating the bird poop, I really didn’t think she’d go for seconds. How was I supposed to know she’d find it tasty? I thought she’d gag or something. So when she went for some more, I was too shocked to say anything. Then she went for the leaf, and I opened my mouth to say something, but the father grabbed her before I could.

Like many of their fathers, kids here are also incredibly bored. They don’t have the luxury of toys, so they really have to find anything they can to entertain themselves. Muhammad spent a good 30 minutes pushing a tire around the yard. Can you imagine being entertained by pushing a tire around? Sophia likes to find sticks and bang things with it. She also likes to play with trash. She takes wrappers and fills them up with water, and squirts stuff with it. It really doesn’t work, nor does it seem fun. I really wish I brought something fun for them.

Also, children are very open. Sophia was walking with me on the sandy street, and she just stopped, and peed on the side of the road. I was shocked. People were walking past me, unphased. She does this quite often too. She also has this portable toilet for pooping that’s located near the outhouse. This one time, she brought it out to the courtyard, and pooped in front of me. I positioned myself behind the tree because I really didn’t want to watch. But she kept moving around so she could talk to me, while pooping. I kept moving, so she kept moving. Also, since tissues would be an unnecessary expense, children always have snot running down their face. We don’t think twice about how much tissue matters to us.

However, on the positive side, I think my favorite image of the kids is with their fathers. You can imagine a bunch of masculine men, hanging around, drinking tea. Every time I’m with them, I feel like I’m in a Gentlemen’s Club or something. But at the same time a bunch of them are fathers. And they have their sons or daughters in their laps. They play with them while talking about sex, politics, America and so on. It’s just such an interesting juxtaposition.

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My house is much smaller than my house in Dakar, but I like it much more. It’s quite small, but more conducive for socializing. There are three buildings. The largest is the one with all the rooms. There are three bedrooms, including mine, and a living room. There is another small building that simply a room with a refrigerator in it. I think they want to turn it into a boutique though. The last building is where the cooking is done. I don’t exactly know if I would call it a “kitchen,” at least not a Western kitchen, since it’s just a room with a propane tank for the cooking. There’s no stove, no sink, no table. The room also smells a little funky, due to the lack of ventilation. There is an outdoor “sink,” which is just a spout and drain. It’s the only source of running water in the entire complex. There’s also a pen for the sheep and turkey. I have no idea why we have a turkey, but the sheep are for Tabaski. There’s a courtyard in the center, and that’s where all the hanging out, the eating, the laundry, the playing happens. There are always cats in the courtyard. My family gives them leftovers, so now they just loiter there. It’s interesting though. It’s like having a new pet every day.

Then there’s the outhouse. The Outhouse. I italicize it because it literally is like a horror film for me. It’s two small rooms. One is the toilet and one is the shower. When I say “shower”, I mean it’s a bucket, a cup, and a drain. You have to fill the bucket up with water and bring it to the outhouse. You basically get yourself wet, soap up, and rinse. It’s really not that bad. Now the toilet. When I say “toilet”, I really mean a hole in the ground. It’s a squat toilet, and it doesn’t flush. There’s a huge bucket of water next to the toilet, and that’s used for wiping and flushing. When it comes to flushing, you basically throw water into the hole until everything disappears. It can take a whole bucket of water. The higher you pour from, the better chance it disappears, but you risk a bigger splash that can come right back at you. I’m hoping I get use to it.

Then there are the bugs. There are bugs everywhere; hiding in the toilet, the shower, the sink, everywhere. They’re the biggest bugs I’ve ever seen. In my bedroom, bugs literally rain from my ceiling. Thank Buddha for my mosquito net. Imagine the number of spiders I’d be eating in my sleep; more than the seven a year, according to the urban legend.

But nonetheless, I still love it here.

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Yankhoba is quite the guy. He took me to his house to meet his family. He introduced most of the men as his brothers and most of the women as his sisters. I thought he had 20 siblings. He later told me most of them weren’t actually his brothers or sisters. He just considers them family. The Senegalese consider their friends and neighbors as part of their family. As Americans, we have a very structured view of what family is. I think we should adopt the Senegalese idea of family.

When I asked Yankhoba and his brother, Allen, if they were students, they seemed a little uneasy answering it. I didn’t mean to put them in an awkward position. They answered nonetheless, telling me that they were not at the university. I believe they completed their education, but just can’t find jobs. I love what Yankhoba said though. He said “nous sommes de l’ecole de rue,” meaning “we are of the school of the streets.”

While we were hanging out on the couch, I could barely understand anything. But laughter erupted and I had no idea why. Allen explained to me that Yankhoba has a ton of girl problems. And that Allen and Yankhoba’s friends usually have to fix all his problems. I told them that in the US, he would be called a “pimp” or a “playa.” They found this amusing. I later saw first-hand what Allen was talking about. Yankhoba and I ran into one of Yankhoba’s ex-girlfriends. He looked at her, with a puzzled expression. He forgot her name. It was an awkward minute.

Also while walking through town, I met many people who were Bayefalls. Bayefalls are Muslims, but less strict. I’m actually not sure what exactly they are. They have this cool handshake where they bring your hand to their forehead and tap it once or twice. The other person reciprocates. It continues back and forth for two or more times. I am an honorary Bayefall apparently.

One of them was so nice that he gave me 250 CFA as a welcoming gift. He just put it into my hand. I said I couldn’t accept it, but he insisted. It’s amazing that despite them living below the poverty line, they are still generous with their money, especially with a foreigner.