Every once and a while, I’ll sit next to Seck to observe a consultation. But for the first time, I sat in the patients’ seat, facing the ominous head nurse. Fortunately for me, I was only sitting there for an interview, and not for health reasons.

“My last question. What is the biggest problem in Senegal?”

“Malaria,” he responded without hesitation.

I hadn’t been in Senegal for very long when that question was first asked. And I really didn’t understand why malaria was the biggest medical problem in Senegal. I mean, so we get some people with malaria every once and a while. What’s the big deal? They just get an IV and they get better, right? It’s just like getting the flu.

The first time I saw somebody with malaria was back during the first month of being in Sangalkam. This girl walked through the cast-iron gate and she looked like death. Her eyes were bloodshot and where they weren’t red, they were yellow. The girl’s lips were flakey from her body losing moisture. Her skin was pale, even though she must’ve been over 104 degrees. She walked slowly and wobbly, as if she was a 10-month-old baby just beginning to stand on two feet. Halfway to the pharmacy, she bent over and vomited in the sand, though it was mostly water; a sure sign that she hadn’t been eating. Malaria isn’t like getting the flu. It might be like getting the flu if the flu was jacked up on steroids.

From that moment on, I began to see malaria everywhere. The hospitalization room was constantly filled with infected patients. They laid there for hours and hours with an IV in their arms. They stared up into the air, captivated by some world that only malaria patients can see. Often times I thought they were dead. Most of the time I was wrong. The only time I’ve ever seen a person die right in front of me was at the Poste. And as one would expect, it was from malaria. Though this woman was extremely old, it’s incredibly heart breaking to see a daughter run out into the street, crying at the top of her lungs. It was even more disturbing when they carried the body out in a small truck, the ones they use in the morning to deliver the cardboard-like bread to all the boutiques.

Living in the United States all my life, I’ve never had to worry about malaria. Malaria was eradicated long before I was a born. And even here, I still don’t have to worry too much about malaria. I have my prophylaxis to protect me, and if that fails, I have the comfort of knowing that I’d be rushed to the hospital for treatment, all paid by my health insurance. And in the worst-case scenario, I would be airlifted out of Senegal. But nevertheless, coming here I got to see malaria firsthand. Yes, it is true that it’s preventable. And yes it’s very treatable. Then why do so many people die from it? I really don’t know.

After seven months, I have seen my fair share of malaria patients and malaria is definitely pretty bad. What’s amazing is that I didn’t even see close to the worst. My whole in-country experience was during the dry season. The three wettest months are July, August, and September. The roads flood with human waste and any open container, any stray tire fills with water, breeding mosquitoes. During those three months, the Poste is filled beyond its capacity. Seck is a good guy and I know if he could do anything to help anybody at all, he would in a heartbeat. But even during the wet season, the Poste gets so packed that Seck has no choice but to deny treatment to people.

The consultation room at the Poste de Santé could pass for a cluttered closet with a desk in the center. The walls are lined with yellowing out-of-date posters promoting certain drugs and hygienic habits. On the central desk, there are papers regarding conferences and protocols shuffled together. There is a stethoscope laid on top of the stack of paper and usually a blood pressure cuff. I say usually because there is only one blood pressure cuff in the entire Poste and it’s often being fought over between Seck and Madame Diouf . There is a thermometer that’s hardly used, and a tape measure, 60 centimeters long.I don’t think a 60-centimeter tape measure will do much good if most adults are over a meter and a half tall.

Can you imagine being a health practitioner and having to turn people away from a state-run public clinic? That gives a whole new meaning to global health, one that isn’t really global. And with the Poste being packed with malaria patients, you can just imagine how the mosquitoes must look upon these poor people like it is Thanksgiving Day. But what can you do, right? Nobody does anything to prevent malaria. Nobody uses mosquito nets. Nobody gets rid of his or her standing water. Nobody does anything at all. I’ve been to many “Malaria Discussions” funded by USAID, UNESCO and the Senegalese government, but to so say that they’re effective is difficult. The first time I went, all we did was eat peanuts and drink tea. Nobody got up to address the group. And before I knew it even started, it had ended. Considering that malaria is “the biggest problem in Senegal,” you would think that people would treat it as such.

But the issue is that the public doesn’t know. And why would they when they have more important things to think about, like making a living and feeding their families? But nevertheless, the most important thing is to educate them. And the most important thing they have to learn is that besides having the ability to kill, malaria can cripple one’s financial security. Health insurance is almost non-existent. Only the rich, the bureaucrats, and some of those employed in the formal sector get health insurance. That probably leaves more 95% of the population without health insurance. If nobody thinks about saving money in case of sickness, the cost of the hospitalization and drugs alone can decapacitate an entire family. Now on top of that, the patient loses his or her ability to produce any sort of income for more than a week. It’s like getting kicked by this microscopic malaria plasmodium when you’re already down. Now imagine a whole community being out-of-commission like that for three months. It’s not only a family that loses their ability to produce income, but the entire economy of the community is very much disrupted for a fourth of the year. I’m not a health official nor do I pretend to be one. I only know what I see. But what I see is not enough.

Malaria really is the biggest medical problem in Senegal, and arguably, in the developing world. Let’s hope that as a whole world community we can address this issue and eradicate malaria completely. When I come back in the future to visit my family, friends, and community, I hope to sit down with Seck again. I hope to sit across from him in his very own white coat, one that wasn’t given to him by some French hospital, in a new consultation room, one that isn’t masquerading as a closet. I hope to ask him the same exact question.

“What is the biggest problem in Senegal?”

And he would respond, “Not malaria.” And then we’d hold hands and ride off into the African sunset together. The End. Okay, maybe not the last part.

Fanta is so freaking amazing. I had this great conversation with her last night after dinner. It always stems from food. She’s always asking me what food I like in Senegal. But then she stops me halfway through and says, “Okay okay. What don’t you like in Senegal?” And this happens all the time. That’s how all our conversations after dinner start. But this one just kept on going. We started talking about her history. We talked about what jobs she worked. We talked about what she wants to do in the future. Just talking to her, it made me respect and love her even more. I had no idea she was such a traveled, accomplished woman. Let me just give you a profile of her.

Fanta was born in Kaolack, a city in the middle of Senegal. She has two brothers and two sisters, and I don’t exactly know where she is in the age hierarchy, but I know she’s not the oldest or youngest. Somewhere in the middle. Her parents were Malian immigrants who came to Senegal because of the commerce. She grew up speaking Bambara (a Malian ethnic group) first, but quickly learned Wolof since you really can’t go through life in Senegal without speaking Wolof. She attended school and learned French there. She also learned a little English. Even today, she can say simple sentences like, “I am Fanta Cisse. I am Senegalese. I am a mother. I live in Sangalkam. My father is [blank]. My mother is [blank].” She really enjoys saying, “I am old. I am too old.” But the education system of Senegal, and actually of most of Africa, was much better back in her time. Her generation speaks the best French. It’s because after she was educated, there was a fiscal crisis due to the expanding production power of Africa, but a stagnant demand of products. But anyways. Today, she speaks EXCELLENT French. The best French out of every Senegalese woman I’ve met. In fact, people often ask her, “What school do you teach at?” In which she responds, “Oh I’m not a teacher! I only sell fabric!” What’s amazing is Fanta never finished high school. Because of early marriages in Africa, she got married and got pregnant with Pape, so she had to drop out of school before she finished high school. But she was so good at French that she went to Cote d’Ivoire and taught French at a school that her uncle opened. She taught little kids the basics of French. After two years, she returned because of her ailing father.

After he died, she didn’t return to teaching French. Instead, she became a merchant, like her parents. She’s worked a whole range of jobs. She’s made peanut butter and sold it on the streets. She’s raised baby calves up until a mature age so they could be sold. She worked as a tailor for the longest time. And now, she sells fabric because of her old age, along with other various things like raising chickens and selling ice. She no longer has the stamina to do all of the other jobs. Throughout her lifetime, she’s traveled all over Africa, mostly because of her job. She goes to Mali twice a year to buy fabric since Mali has the nicest fabric in West Africa. She has traveled to Guinea, Nigeria, Ghana, Mauritania, and more. She’s never gone to France or the US, but she’s already made two trips to Mecca! Which is crazy! Most people can’t afford a single trip, but she went in 2007 and 2008. She was planning on going again in 2009 but her mother got sick. And so I assume she’ll be going in 2010 since her mother passed away. Once a woman goes to Mecca, she gets the title “Ajaa” or “Ajaratu.” But I don’t know why she doesn’t go by that. I guess it’s because she’s modest. Love her.

She’s hoping to visit France this summer (and I’ll be in France this summer so maybe I’ll meet up with her!!) because her oldest son just had a baby girl (who they named Fanta). She’s so incredibly traveled! In fact, she was the first woman in all of Sangalkam to travel in a plane. How crazy is that!?!?? I just don’t understand where she gets all the money! I guess she’s really wealthy, but just lives incredibly modestly. I mean, she’s financially successful on her own with relatively financially successful sons. She has one of the richest husbands I know of, Baay Assane. She was previously married to Moustapha Senghor (the father of the three sons) who had a government job I believe (so it’s relatively well paid), but he died so she might’ve inherited a lot of money as well. But seriously, there’s so many possibilities that I just can’t figure it out!

And from being so traveled, and from living in communities heavy in Pulaars and Seereers, she can also speak those two languages. I didn’t think she could speak them fluently, but she told me she can express whatever she wants in the languages, which is better than my French, so I guess she is fluent. She can also speak another Malian language that I don’t know. So she can speak Bambara, Wolof, French all fluently. She can speak Pulaar, Seereer and that other Malian language conversationally fluently. And she can say a few words in English. Amazing. The most incredible part is the fact that somebody who can speak that many languages is a common thing in Senegal, in Africa. People may think Africans are uneducated, but a good number of them can speak more languages than Americans can dream of.

On top of Fanta being one of the most intelligent people I know, she’s also incredibly kind. She has had positions in multiple associations and local organizations, but with old age, she’s had to cut down her activities. She used to be a treasurer of this organization that promoted female farmers, but she stepped down because of all the traveling. Today, she’s a very respected figure in Sangalkam, both in the women’s circle and the men’s. She has a micro-financing circle of over 150 women. She’s the president and founder of this organization called Foird (totally wrong spelling) that supports local female artisans. And even when she sells all her fabric, which can costs upwards of 80,000 CFA, she’ll let people buy them on credit. Meaning, she’ll sell a person an 80,000 CFA piece of fabric, and instead of them having to pay it right then and there, she’ll let them pay her 10,000 CFA every week for eight weeks. That way people don’t have to break the bank to pay for her amazing Malian fabric. This is all I found out, but I feel like there’s so much more that she just hasn’t told me.

GOD I LOVE THIS WOMAN. I’m so sad to leave her, and I asked her if she would give me all her information so I can send her things in the future. I’ve thought about all the things I can send her. I can send her American fabric. I can send her school material for the kids. I can send baby clothes for all the babies. I can send her American candies. I’m excited just thinking about it. She wants to get a computer with a webcam so we can chat online! And she said that that way she can meet my mother! I’m gonna call her every day!

It was our last monthly meeting, and this one took place down south. The theme of this month’s meeting was environmental conservation, so the big activity was the tour of the mangrove system. I’ll explain more about that later. But we had already been to the area before, when we had to make that Gambia border run.

The Campement We stayed in Toubakouta overnight during our little trip and it worked out really well, so we did it again this meeting. Not to mention Tons just has tons of connections. Apparently his cousin runs the campement (like a hostel), except Tons never met this cousin. I doubt it’s even his real cousin. It’s probably just one of those Senegalese fake family relations. But nonetheless, Tons just called up his cousin, who was also named Babacar like Tons, called him a moron, then asked him for a favor. The Senegalese just really enjoy insulting each other. It seems like it strengthens their family relationships (that joking kinship thing). With Tons’ connection, we got a discount. The campement itself was okay. It’s weird because by American standards you’d think, “Uh…this isn’t really where we’re staying is it?” The walls of the room had water damage, along with the slow chipping of the paint. The beds were nice, but the sheets were ugly and tacky; clearly made in China. The pillows seemed like they were stuffed with rock. The toilets didn’t flush (though the girls’ toilet did). And the worst was the water. Besides being kind of salty (the region all has salty water since its right next to the water), the water just didn’t wash all the soap off of you. Ananda described it as being “soft,” whatever that means. It’s the worst feeling ever. You feel like you have a film of soap all over your body. But I’m really not complaining. I’m just trying to paint you guys a picture. Clearly not as nice as St. Louis though. Apparently the campement is actually considered a nicer campement too. It makes me wonder what bad campements are like. We had most of our meals at the campement except two dinners, which we had at Awa’s house.

Awa Approaching the house, we saw beautiful pink and purple flowers growing over the cement walls. The green cast-iron gate opened to a walkway filled with white seashells. The yard was large with newly planted trees, and the back had much more mature mango trees and what I thought were guava trees. The house looked rather small in comparison to the amount of open space. But once we entered, it was actually pretty big. All we could hear Awa voice booming out of the back room. This woman is the quintessential Senegalese woman. She’s big and motherly, with a loud and commanding voice. She’s extremely welcoming and never lets an awkward moment go by. She’s by far one of my favorite people. Awa is Modou’s second wife, Modou being the brother of Tons. They’re an amazing couple. Their home is definitely a classic example of a Senegalese household, besides the house being extraordinarily beautiful. In the household, there was Modou and Awa, their children, Modou’s first wife and their son, and their son’s family. The most adorable was Modou’s first wife’s son’s daughter. Her name was Amina and she was just too cute. She had these big cheeks, and the cutest, shyest smile a girl could have. She was extremely obedient and subdued for a child, quite unusual for a Senegalese girl. The other the people in the house were all nice. What strikes me as interesting is how incredibly obedient everybody was. All the kids were extremely proper, and had the best manners. It was definitely the most managed household I’ve encountered. The one thing I found funny was how Awa’s son was permanently shirtless. This kid was probably around our age, but he was clearly proud of his body. He was very fit, very muscular. He definitely had a very nice body, but he just wouldn’t wear a shirt. He also wore these red running shorts. The most clothes I saw him wear the entire time was when he was about to go exercise. The Senegalese wear so much when they do any working out. It doesn’t seem healthy. I would die of heat exhaustion.

But the point of going to Awa’s, besides seeing one of my favorite families, was to eat. Awa, being a close friend of Rachel’s, makes the food exactly how we like it. She doesn’t use any MSG, which is the most amazing part (she still uses it with her own family). And it tastes just as good. It makes me wonder why the Senegalese even use MSG. But nevertheless, the first meal we had was Yassa Ginaar, which is chicken with an onion sauce over a bed of white rice. The next day was cere (millet couscous) with a tomato and beef sauce. After the sauce runs out for the cere, the Senegalese like to pour milk into the bowl. Everybody freaked out when I did that because they apparently never had it like that before. They yelled, “That is the most disgusting thing. You have oil in your milk!” But it’s exactly what the Senegalese do. All the Senegalese people yelled back, “That’s right! That’s how the Senegalese do it!” While all the other kids, with their American perspective, thought it was gross. Good to know I’m one of the more Senegalese when it comes to eating.

After dinner, we always talk. The Fellows talk amongst themselves, while the adults talk amongst themselves. Each time though, we (the kids) always laugh really hard. We all make each other laugh, but apparently I make them laugh more so than anybody else. And apparently I dominate the conversation. Since Awa was watching us talk, by the second night, Awa had declared I was the “waxkat”, which in Wolof means the talker/speaker, or the entertainer of words. It’s weird because I would never think of myself of a “waxkat” in the US. But maybe I’ve changed. I hope in a good way though. Also, the fellows think I’m REALLY funny. Like incredibly funny. Mat says I should do stand-up (what???), and Ananda said that if I write a memoir, she would love to listen to the book-on-tape version so long as I narrate it. She thinks I’d be really funny narrating my memoir (like David Sedaris). I was shocked. I’m definitely not considered the “funny kid” back home, but here, I’m the clown. It’s a weird feeling to be the “clown” of a group. I hope I maintain it though, since I like making people laugh, and I like laughing as well. I think a lot of my humor comes from my facial expressions, my sarcasm and the way I say certain things, and my stupid comments. I tend to misunderstand and mishear things a lot, so I always say something really out of context. I guess we’ll see if I’m still funny in a month!

Peace Corps The second day of our monthly meeting was mostly academic. I mean, we got to swim in the pool, but the whole morning we went over 200 pages of reading that Rachel gave us. They were really dense articles about development, environmental conservation, and culture. They were all from JSTOR. I love JSTOR! But I guess Rachel just wanted to make sure that we didn’t forget what school was. Don’t want that brain to atrophy. We pretty much did a few hours of a college seminar (Rachel taught a few courses at Stanford anyways, so it practically was a mini-seminar).

But the best part of the “academic day” was the Peace Corps volunteers. Between our morning session and our afternoon session, Rachel invited two volunteers to talk to us so we could compare our experience, and also ask them questions about the Peace Corps. Many of us are interested in Peace Corps, so it was fitting. The two volunteers were named Kaylen and Jack. Kaylen had orangey-red hair (a ginger! as Victoria called him; reference to a youtube video), a skinny build, with freckled, tan skin. He wore a slightly old-looking shirt with beige cargo pants. His feet, sitting in those flip-flops, were caked with black dirt. He was from Montana, and got a bachelor’s degree in International Business from University of Montana. Jack, the other volunteer, had brown hair and a buzz cut. He had a normal build, just slightly on the stockier side. He was dressed in a striped button-up, with kakhi’s and Teva-like sandals. He looked like he stepped out of J-Crew if J-Crew had a sale for Peace Corps volunteers. He looked way cleaner than Kaylen. Kaylen was just grimey-looking (like me!). Jack had a degree in Philosophy from Saint John’s College in Annapolis. Both were extremely nice, but you could tell Kaylen was so nervous. He was shaking in his chair when he talked to us, and he tended to rant because he was so nervous. I was like, “Dude…we’re six high school graduates. I don’t think you have anything to fear, but okay…” Jack was much more chill. And his humor was similar to mine. But nonetheless, both of them had interesting things to talk about.

I learned a lot about Peace Corps as a whole though. I realized I really didn’t know how much about the system. Peace Corps takes applicants who have a bachelor’s degree. Once the applicants are accepted, the Peace Corps chooses a location for them. They don’t take requests, but they take into consideration of certain skills you have. Obviously Peace Corps doesn’t operate in every developing country, so there are a lot fewer options than you think. The volunteer is sent in cycles rather than on an individual basis. So Jack’s and Kaylen’s group (they arrived in Senegal back in August) had a total of 50-something volunteers. But once they arrive in the country, they have three months of training at a designated site. They learn about their selected sector, like agro-forestry or health services, or eco-tourism (there are more). They also learn their assigned languages. Once that’s done, they go into their locations and they have another few weeks of training. In the village, they usually have a “guide” to help them around. They each have their own “Yankhoba” essentially. Except less weird and silly. That’s the process of Peace Corps.

While in their location, they have a lot of freedom to travel. They usually have regional houses that volunteers can go to and hang out. Jack thinks the most incredible thing is cell phones and how they allow anybody to talk to anybody in Senegal, and how he is able to text his family at home all the time. It is pretty incredible. Each month, Peace Corps workers get a stipend to cover living expenses. They get two vacation days for every month (they stack so you can collect them later on). Volunteers can do whatever they want with their vacation time, include going back to the States. After their entire experience is over, they get paid 275 dollars a month for every month of service in the Peace Corps. So if I were a volunteer for 24 months, I would be paid 275 dollars for 24 months back in the States. I didn’t know Peace Corps paid you. So perhaps that’s a bonus incentive.

Back to the volunteers. Kaylen lives in the area that we were visiting. He is working in eco-tourism for the Peace Corps. Kaylen is the only one in the area because he’s basically here to see if the area can work as a Peace Corps site. The site was used about 20 years ago, but in 20 years, a lot can change. So he was basically pioneering the area for the future generation of volunteers. He worked with certain campements to help them improve their accounting skills and their publicity. But in reality, he actually worked a lot more with local schools. He started a rugby club and he volunteers at a local English club. He also holds typing classes for kids at a local cyber café. So you can see that though he was assigned to eco-tourism (the campements), he actually focuses on local schools. It seems like that happens a lot in the Peace Corps. You may be assigned to something, but they don’t seem to enforce it very strictly. His home life is interesting because he lives with a mother whose kids have their own lives now. His mother is dating this French dude, and so it seems really weird and un-Senegalese. But he says he doesn’t mind it. When he got to his site, he thought he would be living in a village with a hut, but his house apparently is crazy modern in comparison to the other volunteers’ houses. He learned French in college, but as for the Peace Corps training, he was trained exclusively in Wolof. His French pronunciation was so…American. I was like, “Hey…you sound like me! But worse!”

Jack lives in an area a little farther away. His assigned sector was agriculture and forestry (or agro-forestry for short, or ag-fo for even shorter). Jack is also the only one in his village working, and he’s also testing out the waters for future volunteers. He seems to be doing things more aligned with his assigned work. So far he’s working with local farmers to help them create nurseries. He does a lot with live fencing (plants that act as fencing for purposes of keeping animals out and keeping the soil healthy). He works with about 12 farmers and is going to help them plant whatever plants they want. He’s planting a lot of fruit trees even though that’s not really part of his sector. His Senegalese friend also wants to do this beautification of the village, so he might start that as well. He seems relatively busy though, and happy. His home life seems good as well. He lives in this very small village, and he even has his own hut in the complex of the village chief. He said the household is predominantly women, though he really enjoys it because mothers tend to take people under their wings (I can definitely relate). His house is definitely more traditional than Kaylen’s. Jack had no prior language experience, so Peace Corps trained him in Seereer, which is interesting because Wolof is spoken by more people in Senegal. But Seereer is the language of his region, so that’s why he learned Seereer.

It’s incredible to hear about their experienced because I can’t help but relate to them all. I never really thought about our experience in comparison with anything else. I know Rachel explains to potential project partners that GCY is like a mini-Peace Corps. Rachel is SO right. We really are a mini-Peace Corps. The cultural immersion, the volunteer work, the language skills; the entire experience just seems to have a lot in common. Hearing Kaylen talk about volunteering in the English Club and how he diversified his volunteer work rather than working exclusively with eco-tourism, hearing Jack talk about how he likes spending time with the women of the house; I could just relate so well. The obvious differences are the time length (GCY being seven months and Peace Corps being two years), the age and qualifications, and the resources available. Obviously Peace Corps has much more potential to effectuate change than we do. But nevertheless, GCY and Peace Corps have similar experience, though perhaps their goals are different (GCY being cultural exchange and learning, and Peace Corps being more about development work).

I asked if they had any criticisms of the Peace Corps. I hear from other people that Peace Corps doesn’t have very good support, meaning they don’t have somebody really checking up on you or guiding you. There’s also that whole issue of whether Peace Corps really helps or is just pointless. For example, Kaylen worries about whether the things he creates, like a garden or something, if it would be kept after he leaves. The answer is probably no. Most of the time, people don’t keep your projects because they see them as your projects, and not there’s. But Kaylen and Jack think the biggest issues with Peace Corps are that Peace Corps wants to grow so fast, but they don’t have the employees to grow with it, and that Peace Corps branches don’t seem to communicate very much and make stupid mistakes. With the renewed interest of the Peace Corps by Americans, they’re getting and accepting more volunteers, but it doesn’t seem like the organization is growing at the same pace. Their example was that when they arrived, them being a cycle of more than 50 volunteers (the biggest ever), they never thought to hire more buses to pick them up at the airport. As for the lack of communication, Jack said he knew a Peace Corps volunteer who was stationed in Mexico, near the border of the US. And this volunteer lived on the border of Texas and Mexico. He ended up living a few miles away from his house, so he would go home every weekend. How stupid is that? I mean, I guess the guy didn’t mind, but that’s just not the cultural immersion you should be looking for.

But after this entire conversation, I’m still not quite sure I want to do the Peace Corps. I think it’s a great thing and Kaylen and Jack said it was the best experience of their lives and would do it again if they had to choose, but I’ve always wanted to do Doctors Without Borders, assuming I become a doctor. And if I do both, then I’ll be like 40 before I start my career. As for you guys reading this, perhaps you guys should think about Peace Corps. It seems fun!

Mangroves and Oysters On the last day of our monthly meeting, we took a tour of the mangroves. So mangroves are these trees that grow above the water. It’s actually really, really cool. It looks like these trees are just floating in the mid-air, but when you get closer, you can see all the roots. Google “Senegalese mangroves.” Not that Senegal is the only country that has mangroves. Mangroves are so incredibly important because they are the homes of incredibly sensitive ecosystems. They also provide wood, and maintain the balance of salt in the water. They also prevent soil-erosion in certain areas. What I’m trying to say is that mangroves are awesome. Beautiful too.

So we hopped into the little boat, and headed towards the mangroves. For some strange reason, Gaya started breaking out these camp songs, and so we ended singing camp songs on the boat. It was so weird. Anyways, we were all expecting to go straight into the depths of the mangroves, but instead, we just stopped on this island. This island was really cool though. Instead of having sand, the entire beach was covered in seashells. We got to walk around this island. We explored and found this path that leads you to the other side where there’s a little alcove. The entire island was beautiful. Such gorgeous views. Once we got back to the beach, we were told we could swim. It was awesome. The water was nice and cool, and incredibly salty so you barely had to do anything to float. And I just love floating in open water. There were sea anemones all over the ground, except we thought they were sea urchin so we freaked out. I also couldn’t pronounce “anemone” and everybody was yelling at me. It was like “Finding Nemo.” There were also a ton of hermit crabs, and every time you approached, they’d just run away and burrow into their homes. There were fish that came right up to your feet. I could feel their fins tickling me. It felt like they were nibbling me. Victoria called them “pedicure fish”, whatever that is.

After we got out of the water, we had lunch. It was delicious. We had the freshest fish. They must’ve been fished that day. We also had an entire plate of oysters, both grilled and raw. Except we didn’t eat the raw ones. We made a salad, and the tour guides also made an egg and potato salad. I LOVE EGGS. So I was basically in heaven. The way I imagine heaven, if there is one, is a constant feast. That’s it. After eating, we just continued to chill on the beach. We talked and just reflected on how crazy it was that we were here, in Senegal, on a beach made completely of seashells.

After a while, we hopped back in the boat and got the tour going. We first went into these little inlets so we could harvest oysters. Every time we got near the roots of the mangroves, we could hear the clicking and clacking of the oysters. Apparently oysters constantly open and close, so it’s just like a forest of sounds, of oyster communication. Eventually we got to this shallow part, and we hopped out of the boat. The moment my foot touched the bottom of the river floor, it sank. It was the weirdest thing. The mud was so soft and slushy. It didn’t feel like mud. It felt like I was stepping in foam; wet, squishy, sticky foam. Some parts of the river bottom were softer than others, so it was really weird to walk. But we got to actually go up to the roots of the mangroves, and harvest our own oysters. I got to take a knife and cut them off the branch, into a bucket. Then, after we collected enough, we decided to have a little snack right then and there. We took our oysters and shucked them, standing in the middle of the river. We squeezed some limejuice and just slurped them down. It was amazing. The freshest, most delicious oysters I’ve ever had. Can you imagine going out, harvesting your own oysters, shucking them, and eating them right off the branch? AHH it was like a dream.

The next stop was this mangrove island that birds like to perch on. We got there and just watched the birds settle. The most interesting was the blue-herring. But Rachel later pointed out that the white birds always settle on top, and the black ones settle on the bottom. Tons apparently interprets that as subtle racism. I laughed. But after a while, we just got bored. There were other pirogues with old, old white people. They were like legit bird-watchers and we were just whispering about how strange this was. Mat then started to make bird noises. Our guide could tell we were pretty much done with this place, so we left.

On our way back, we asked if we could go into the mangrove canopies. Hilary had already gone on one of these tours, and she said she got to go into these canopies where the roots of the mangroves would grow beneath you and the stems would grow above you. So we convinced the drive to take a little detour. It was so cool. But even better, the guide told us we could climb into the mangroves! That was the second best part. We immediately climbed into the trees. We were all saying, “We’re like monkeys! This is awesome!” So we just traversed through the mazes of branches. I told Gaya, who wants to become a children’s book writer that she has to write a book and title it “Monkeys in the Mangroves.” But while climbing, we had to be careful because the branches were not very sturdy, and if we fell, we’d go crashing into the water. Though that wouldn’t be so bad. The funniest part was when Ananda sat on this branch, and I saw this stick poking into her butt, and I kept screaming “Oh my god Ananda! It looks like that branch is piercing your butt! It looks like your butt is about to pop!” Unbeknownst to me, Mat was recording the entire thing!

Eventually, we had to get going, but it was a great experience. The mangroves were definitely one of the best tourist attractions we’ve been too. So much fun. Climbing those mangroves was like seeing Yellowbear (my nickname back home) in action.

Rachel would be so proud. Mat, being incredibly lucky and sociable, met this man named Sakho at the bank in Rufisique. It was serendipitous. It turns out that Sakho is the head pharmacist of Valda, a very large pharmaceutical company that actually has its headquarters in Rufisque. And so Mat, Ananda and I made our very own contact.

Mat brought us to the Valda headquarters to meet Sakho. Walking in, I was shocked. It was a gated complex that was more official than anything I’ve ever seen in Senegal. We got to the gate, and the security guard had to phone Sakho to make sure we were authorized to enter. I know in the US, that would be completely normal, but I guess I’m just really not use to that anymore. The security guard had to escort us to Sakho’s office, which was on the far side of the complex. As we walked in, the smell of chemicals just completely overwhelmed us. It was AWESOME. I miss the smell of chemicals. It smelled so clean, so official, so scientific. I could smell the chlorine in the air, along with other various chemicals. But walking into Sakho’s office was really surprising. It was so incredibly nice, and so western. He had a massive computer monitor, loaded with all the latest software, including Windows 7, which nobody uses in Senegal. He even had his own air conditioning unit. But once we sat down, we immediately started talking about Valda.

Valda is an incredibly fascinating company to me. The founder, a Swiss man, started the company right after World War II. Valda has been owned by the same family until about a few years ago, when the director of Pfizer in West Africa (yes Pfizer! My sister works at Pfizer in the States), decided to buy it. But, it’s not owned by Pfizer. It’s privately owned by the director, and has no affiliation with Pfizer. I find that a little weird, not just because the owner for this pharmaceutical works two jobs, but how in the world did he make enough to buy a company? But anyways, today, Valda Afrique services every country in Africa except South Africa (South Africa is always the weird one; they have their own pharmaceutical market there). How incredible is that? I’ve never even heard of this company and it’s a continent-wide company. And on top of that, there’s a Valda in Brazil. The Valda in Brazil services all of South America. In fact, the Valda has a much wider market in South America. Sakho said it’s mainly because the countries there are more developed and therefore have the purchasing power. But that’s incredible. Valda Afrique has this one location in Rufisque, and the entire complex can’t be more than five buildings. They have a total of around 65 employees. 65 employees for the all of Africa?! In comparison, Valda Brazil has a total of 20,000 employees. What? I don’t understand the huge discrepancy.

As for the products, Valda make an incredible range of things. They make Yotox, which is the insecticide that everybody uses in Senegal. They make tetracycline, which is used for skin and eye infections. They make so many types of antiseptics, more than I even knew existed. They make elixirs and oils that help things from indigestion to infections. They also produce huge amounts of condoms. But the funny thing is, when he told us how many they produce (which was like 2 million or something), I was like, that’s it?? For the all of Africa?? I assume there has to be other producers of condoms, or people just have a lot of unprotected sex here. Which is possible considering the high birthrates and venereal diseases. But you also have to remember, more people here have sex to have kids. However, their biggest product are mints. The mints fight bad breath and they act as cough drops too. Though that’s the biggest product, I think the best product is AquaTabs. They’re tablets that clean water. And it costs about two cents in US currency. Each tablet purifies 10 gallons. That’s amazing, and hopefully people will actually use them. Overall, it’s incredible the amount of things they produce considering how small the complex is. I can only assume that, though they service the whole of Africa, minus South Africa, they don’t produce HUGE amounts. Or maybe they do and they’re just incredibly efficient. That’s possible.

Valda Brazil on the other hand, makes more sense to me. 20,000 employees for South America sounds possible. They also produce more products that are fruit flavored (apparently South Americans really like fruit flavors while Africans prefer minty flavors). But overall, the two Valdas produce almost the same thing. Valda Brazil also imports all of its Gum Arabic from Valda Afrique, because Gum Arabic is a huge export here. If you don’t know what that is, it’s used in like EVERYTHING. From medicine, to printer ink, to candy. Oh, and as for the environment, most companies don’t really care. But Valda apparently filters its waste before dumping it into the sewage system (that barely qualifies as a sewage system). I’m impressed with their awareness.

After he gave us his spiel, we asked him some questions about Valda, and about him. Concerning Valda, I asked him about money. The total revenue, not including expenses, of Valda a year, is approximately 8 million dollars. That seems really little to me. No wonder that dude could buy Valda. Their total operating budget is 1.2 million dollars. So they make a decent amount of money. But even more interesting to me is that though they make all these medical products, I’ve never seen a single thing at the Poste made by Valda. I mean, the mints I see all the time, but those are hardly medicine. They make tetracycline which we sell at the Poste, yet we don’t sell Valda’s. I don’t understand why we wouldn’t sell a Senegalese product at a Senegalese health clinic. When I asked, he responded with, “That’s a good question. The reason is we don’t like to work with the Senegalese government, or governments in general. You try and sell them something, and you get a whole bunch of paperwork and regulations back. We just prefer not to.” They do deal with some governments, but he said they mostly deal with private distributors.

That just absolutely baffles me, for two reasons. One, why wouldn’t a Senegalese company, now owned by a West Africa man, not want to sell to help out the continent, or at least Senegal? So there’s some paperwork involved. Just hire some people with your 6.8 million dollar a year profit to help you with the clerical work. Number two, it just shows how incredibly inefficient the government is. Obviously, if your government is so annoying to deal with, companies aren’t going to invest in your economy. Valda is one company out of the entire world market. And you can’t even get a Senegalese company to invest in the Senegalese government an people. SO FRUSTRATING. But, this led to the question about non-profit work. Sakho told us that Valda does do some non-profit work. Valda gives out some medicine, when permitted, to the talibes, and to those in need. Valda also works with USAID, which is why they created the AquaTabs. But, Sakho said that that’s like 1%, the other 99% is all about profit. It’s a little sad to me, but then again, it’s a company, not a charity. And Sakho believes very deeply that handouts won’t do anything, which is very true.

The final question I asked intrigued me the most. I asked if he has health care provided by Valda. He said yes. He said his insurance covers 100% of all costs. But his case is VERY VERY rare. Valda gives their other employees about 70% coverage, which is still quite good. He explained to me that the only health insurance provided is either in private companies like Valda, or in the government. Government workers, according to Sakho, get 80% coverage. Basically, health care is only accessible to the formal sector (employed by an entity; most people work out of their homes), which means a tiny portion of people actually have adequate health care. The others pay out of pocket, or they have community-based health insurance, which is a relatively new thing in developing countries. As you can see, I’ve been reading a lot about health care.

I think Valda’s a very interesting company, because of how un-Senegalese it seems. But it seems like it does good, even though it’s for-profit. As for Sakho, I think he’s a great guy. But he also made me a little uncomfortable. The way he described his lifestyle just seemed so out of touch with reality. He told us he hates Rufisque and only stays in Dakar. When we described to him places in Senegal, such as Sangalkam, he had no idea what we were talking about. He drinks only bottled water. He refuses to go to public clinics, and only sees private doctors. He doesn’t use any traditional medicine. He has a huge TV that he watched pirated movies on. He drives a brand-new SUV. Yet, the only country he’s every known is Senegal. For a Senegalese man, he’s so not Senegalese, to me. It’s interesting to see, and makes you curious how many other people live like that.

Senegalese wrestling is a long-standing tradition. In fact, it’s not really “Senegalese.” It’s more African as a whole. But it’s their national sport, and everybody here loves it. Everybody. Even the old ladies. Including Fanta. She loves wrestling apparently, and I find that really hilarious. I can just imagine her getting really into it. But wrestling is EVERYWHERE here. You’ll hear kids saying, “Lutte, lutte, lutte.” You’ll see kids wrestling in the sand in the middle of the street. Half the time I can’t tell if they’re playing or if they’re seriously fighting. Some of the kids get really hurt and angry, so I never know whether to break it up for not. I usually just let it be because for the most part, they’re just playing around. But every once and a while, the kids are actually fighting, and I always feel guilty because I just can’t tell! But anyways, you’ll also see posters of wrestlers everywhere. Everybody has their favorite wrestler, and everybody has a laminated photo of their favorite wrestler hung up somewhere. They’re practically worshiped.

For fights, wrestlers always wear close to nothing. They wear this huge thing that looks like an adult diaper, but that’s it. They also have a ton of trinkets and medallions and things for good luck. That includes gris-gris. Gris-gris are these very African charms that ward off evil spirits. Every single Senegalese person, and I mean every one of them, wears one. They’re usually under their clothes so you can’t see. But with wrestlers, they usually have multiple gris-gris, and they’re usually very large and all over their body. It’s weird to see that since gris-gris are so traditionally African and actually clash in some ways with Islam. In this case, African tradition trumps Islam tradition. You can see the tug-of-war between the two quite often with other things. But those all goes to show how entrenched and how beloved African wrestling is. It’s their equivalent of baseball or football I guess.

The actual sport itself is a mixture of sumo wrestling, boxing, and ultimate fighter. The wrestlers are put into a circular sand pit where they wrestle to the beat of a drum and the singing of female wailers (they actually do sound like they’re just wailing). Anything goes in the ring except throwing sand in the face. You can punch and kick, and some of the punches can seriously knock you out. The point is to just knock your opponent onto the ground. Once their body makes clear contact to the ground, they’re done. The thing is, you can be pushed onto all fours, and still be considered in. The main thing is that your torso has to hit the sand. It’s sometimes hilarious because of how stupid some wrestlers can be. I once saw a match where a guy tripped over his foot and fell. And that was considered a victory for the other dude. It was hilarious.

But today, there was a big match between Balla Gaye and Modou Lo. It was like their equivalent of a Superbowl with the Patriots against the Colts. It was INTENSE. The two guys were both really big, chunky wrestlers. Both of them looked more fatty that muscular. You’ll notice that. Some are extremely lean and buff, while others just look overweight. But these two both looked more on the overweight side than the buff side. From all the pre-game talk, it was clear that Modou Lo was the underdog. He’s a little smaller, and Balla Gaye just has a more arrogant swagger. But once the match began, it was over before you could blink. Balla Gaye was able to get Modou Lo to the ground within 20 seconds. That was it. Balla Gaye won.

HOLY COW. I could not believe the reaction. Everybody was glued to the TV, and so when Balla Gaye won, there was the loudest cheer I have ever heard. And this wasn’t just in my house. I could hear cheers from all over Sangalkam. It was ridiculous. Absolutely insane. A guy who was watching at my house started running around as if he was crazy. He ran out onto the street and began screaming. And he wasn’t the only one. Eventually, there was a mob going around the village. So much cheering and so much yelling. When I walked out to see the mob, I saw flashing lights and people banging whatever they could find. There was even a trail of kids behind the mob re-enacting the last few moments of the match. I have never seen anything like it. Even Fanta ran out of the house for a block before running back. She was like a little kid. So adorable. But it was nuts. People were going SO crazy.

And you have to remember, this was happening all over Senegal. I feel bad for Modou Lo though. Sucks for him. And you always want the underdog to win, you know? It’s funny though. When I asked who was the underdog and who was less arrogant, Ndeye said Balla Gaye was. But when I talked to Mat, he was like, “No, Balla Gaye definitely wasn’t the underdog.” So I guess Ndeye was manipulating me to get me to like her man. El Hadj wanted Modou Lo to win, and it was funny because Ndeye was sticking her tongue at El Hadj and basically saying, “Sucka!”

The green card lottery: myth or truth? They could put that on Mythbusters. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s been long said that the US holds a green card lottery. But whether that is true, many people don’t know. Since it’s not like a prize that they announce the winners of each year, people never actually hear of anybody winning. So most people assume the green card lottery is just a myth that the US government made up. What motive would they have? I don’t know. Perhaps to give people a sense of hope?

But in fact, it does exist. When I first came here, Rachel had told me she actually knew somebody who won a green card. She never thought it existed, until she met this person. So it is real. And if you don’t believe her (I don’t know why you wouldn’t), then believe me. I also met somebody who has won the green card lottery. What are the chances? It’s extremely, extremely unlikely that I would actually meet somebody here, in Sangalkam, Senegal, who has won the lottery. His name is Ibrahime. He’s quite an…interesting fellow. He’s nice, but almost everybody in Senegal is, so that doesn’t really tell you who he is. But talking to him, I get the impression he’s always looking for sex. He’s just obsessed with sex. But that’s not exactly abnormal for a guy.

Apparently he’s going to Las Vegas.I’m curious if he had a choice of where to go or not. But if he did have a choice, I assume he’s going there because jobs at Casinos are well paid, and easy to get. So I don’t think he’s going there because there’s prostitution, but I’m sure he’s looking forward to it. Let’s just hope he doesn’t blow all his hard-earned money there. But what I find really interesting is that he doesn’t know a single thing about Las Vegas besides Casinos. He doesn’t know English at all. He doesn’t know American culture at all. So I’m not sure how he’s going to fair. Especially considering it’s Las Vegas. I think it’s going to be a HUGE culture shock to him. I feel that it’s the city where all the bad things of the US are the most exaggerated and the most apparent. I was telling him that it’s the “city of sin” but he didn’t understand what I meant. I just hope he gets cultural adjustment classes or something before he goes to the US. I dunno if the embassy provides that for green card lottery winners.

Maybe he’ll contact me and I’ll get to see how he’s doing in a few years. I’ll be sure to let you guys know.

I’ve begun teaching Oule’ye French. It’s a little peculiar that I would be teaching her French considering how angry and upset I get teaching Muhammad French. And it’s also peculiar that I would be teaching French at all since I’m terrible at it. But, then again, Oule’ye has never had a formal education, and she desperately wants to learn. And how can I say, “Oh no, I’m not qualified to teach you anything,” when in reality, I know more French since coming here than she will probably ever know. So I agreed. But that slowly began to include Muhammad. Except Muhammad knows much more than Oule’ye so I pretty much ignore him in the lessons. I’ll start teaching him once Oule’ye has caught up a little bit.

The first thing I thing to do was teach her the alphabet. I started by just writing it out and asking here to memorize it, but I realize that was just not effective and didn’t work. So what I did was I kind of turned my room into a little classroom. I taped up the entire alphabet on my wall. That way I can make teaching a little more interactive, but pointing to the letters and showing her how they are written. As soon as the actual teaching began did I realize how little she actually knows. I usually speak French to her when I need something, and somehow she gets it. Now, I realize she usually just guesses what I’m asking for. I figured teaching her the alphabet wouldn’t take too long. It’s so simple. So I thought. It was SO difficult. It took multiple days to teach her the alphabet. I just wanted her to know the thing first, so we just went through the alphabet over and over. But for some reason she couldn’t remember “u.” It was SO frustrating. I just kept on moaning and groaning every time she got it wrong.

Out of my frustration, I ended up pleading with her. Pathetic, I know. At one point, I got so upset I actually threw the book I had in my hand across the room. Oule’ye never cried, but sometimes I wasn’t sure if she was on the edge of it. She also seems to be a little sick, so I couldn’t tell. And she would always laugh at me when I got angry, so I’m thinking she wasn’t actually on the verge of crying.

But after a few days, we finally made the connection that her name, “Oule’ye” makes the “u” sound. The “ou” part is the same sound. So that FINALLY had her going. And what was the most amazing part was seeing her reaction when she finally learned the entire alphabet. I mean, she still has pronunciation issues, but that’s because French is not her native language. So her pronunciation might never change. But when she finally got it all done, she was so incredibly happy. She had her own little celebration and you could see it in her eyes how proud she was and how grateful she was. It really goes to show how empowering learning can be.

Knowledge is power, and for Oule’ye, she felt so uneducated, and thus powerless. I’m so happy I could do my part in giving her some sort of education. Obviously, I’m far from giving her anything that useful, but we’re on the right track. Next thing is learning how to write each letter, then what sound each letter makes.

But teaching her so far though has taught ME at least one thing too. I can never be a teacher. Well, I feel like I could be a professor, but never a high school teacher, and sure as hell not a middle school teacher (all that teenage angst). I’m not saying because it’s “below me” or anything, but I feel like I’d be an awful teacher. I get frustrated so easily, and I can see myself blowing up at them. I feel like I would be a very unproductive teacher. And I would never want to subject my students to that. The reason I could teach college is because kids, for the most part, choose their classes, so the students who take your course have some desire to learn what you have to teach. In high school, most classes are forced on you. Since being here, I’m not sure I want to be a doctor anymore. I’m not sure what I want to be at all. It’s made me more confused about my profession, but it’s made me surer about what I want to do, and that’s help. But there’s at least one thing I can cross of my list, and that’s teacher.

I remember visiting my college last year. I was walking on the campus with some friends, just taking it all in, when we ran into this extremely peppy, extremely overbearing girl. She asked us, “Are you guys going to be students here next year?” Expecting to make a new friend, we responded, “Yeah. We are. How about you?” This girl, completely ignoring our question, goes into this long rant about how she took a year off. “It was the best year of my life. It was amazing. I think everybody should take a year off. We did so many interesting things…” and on and on she went. She practically forced all of us to give her our emails so she could us send more information about what she did. She was like one of those missionaries that go door-to-door to convert you, and all you want to do is slam the door in her face. I can’t tell you how put off I was. This girl was awful. She almost convinced me not to take a year off. Luckily, I was already thinking about it way before I had the unfortunate experience of meeting her. So learning from her, I’m not going to tell you that everybody should take a year off, or that my “bridge year” was the best decision of my life; because truthfully, that’s not true.

Taking a year off, or in GCY lingo, a “bridge year”, is an alternate path. I’m not going to say it’s better, because how can I say that taking a year off is better than going straight to college, when I chose one over the other. In my opinion, taking a year off is different for each person. People go straight to college and love it. People go straight to college and hate it. People take gap years and regret it. And then there are people, me included, who take gap years and treasure it. And on top of that, if you do take a year off, who’s to say that going abroad is the best choice? And who’s to say that GCY is the best program? I really believe all these decisions are personal, and for you, not your parents, not your friends, not GCY, and not me, to decide. The best thing I can do for you is tell you about my experience and why I enjoyed it so much.

When I applied to GCY, I actually didn’t think I would do it. And when I got accepted, I turned them down. It wasn’t until months later did I change my mind. I said”no” because I thought I could create my own itinerary that would be better than GCY. I love planning and making order out of chaos. But when I sat down and thought about it, I realized that I definitely could not do this myself, both with planning and with finances. So I contacted GCY and they kindly accepted me back.

The following fall, the “US Training” in California began. I could not believe the things I learned there. I never knew about social entrepreneurship. I never knew about micro-financing. And I sure as hell never met the founder of KIVA or Room to Read. Stepping in, I felt like I was a kid living in a bubble. Stepping out, I felt like I had just taken a crash-course in global development. And by the send-off, I was pumped to go to Senegal and make a difference; building schools, educating kids, giving out medicine, doing anything and everything I could.

I was completely wrong. My experience in Senegal has been the exact opposite. Instead of me making a lasting impression on my community, my community has made a lasting impression on me. I’d like to believe that working at the local clinic, cleaning crazy injuries that leave you asking, “How in the world does that happen?!?!” or helping give vaccinations for illnesses that we never even think about, has made a big difference. But in reality, if I weren’t there, the entire operation would keep on functioning. The best I can hope for is that I will have made a lasting impression on my family and my friends in Senegal by the time I leave. Living with my host family, speaking their language, learning the nuances of their culture, learning about issues that really hit at the hearts of the Senegalese; now that’s what the experience has been about. And putting into words how rich of an experience that has been for me is impossible.

But not everything has been as “enlightening” and “eye-opening.” Seven months is a long time and I have definitely had my fair share of homesickness. I thought of ways I could go back home without people thinking I chickened out. The best thing I could think of was breaking a rule and getting sent home. Who thinks like that? Apparently I do. I have also experienced long periods of complete frustration. I wanted to do so much, but I had no tools at my disposal. I didn’t have the language skills and I didn’t have the cultural know-how. That would come later. There have also been points where I felt bored to death. But as time went on, I have learned how to deal with the bad, and turn them into good.

Even now, I am making less of an impact on my community than I thought I would be, but learning more than I thought possible. I’ve learned not just about Senegalese culture, development, economics, health, myself and so on, but also how to think. Probably the most I’ve gotten out of the experience is not how to ask questions, but how to ask the right questions.

So the right question isn’t whether you want to take a “bridge year” or not, but what kind? I have a friend that bought a ticket to Europe with no plan at all. I have a friend that worked for a software engineering company for six months and ran the Boston Marathon. I have a friend that worked on Capitol Hill. I have a friend that went to New Zealand to work with kiwi birds. But those were all the types of “bridge years” they wanted to take. If want a cultural exchange that teaches you more than just culture, that transforms not just your thinking, but you as a person, then you should consider GCY.

Good luck,

Alec Yeh

Monsieur Ba, my boss at the Traditional Hospital, and I were discussing the Chinese one day. We were talking about foreigners, and in particular immigration. He said something along the lines of, “The Senegalese are everywhere; Europe, Australia, China, the United States. Everywhere.” I responded with, “Yeah. That sounds like the Chinese.” This is where he pointed out something I never realized.

He said there is one essential difference between the Chinese and Senegalese, and that is their mentality. Most immigrants, like the Chinese, the Indians, the Mexicans, immigrate to leave a country. They go the US to make money and they leave their homes forever. They move out of their native country and re-establish themselves elsewhere in hopes of a better life. The Senegalese have a different pattern of immigration. Because the Senegalese have such a strong sense of family and solidarity, they immigrate but don’t plan on staying. They immigrate to make money, but they send back as much money as they can. That’s why remittances are such a huge part of the Senegalese economy, and not just Senegal, but Africa as a whole.

Walking around Senegal, you will see a ridiculous amount of Western Unions or MoneyGrams. From what I remember of Taiwan, that’s not the case (that was a long time ago though). People tend not to leave Senegal for good. They generally plan on returning at some point. For example, Gaya’s Dakar host-mother was raising three of her grandchildren. Their parents were working in France. But they didn’t want to raise their kids in France, so they sent them back to Senegal to be raised. I was surprised since you would think since the quality of life in France is much better than in Senegal, they would want to raise their family in France. But to the parents, Senegalese values are much more important than the quality of life.

Another example is Akon’s family. Akon is Senegalese. Although he moved to the US when he was very young. He can barely speak Wolof apparently. But Akon is ridiculously rich. His family immigrated to the US in hopes of a better life. But now that Akon’s family is rich, his extended family could easily immigrate to the US. But they still own a farm in Bambylor. Akon’s family lives about ten minutes away from me. Too bad I don’t really like Akon. But the point is, they choose to live in Senegal, and to continue working their farm. I’m curious what is it that’s so inherent in the Senegalese that makes them so loyal to their land and culture.

Since we were talking about the Chinese, sort of, I was curious about his opinion of them. The Chinese are by far, the most economically influential people in Senegal; not the Europeans, not the Americans, but the Chinese. So how do the people of Senegal feel about that?

I was expecting a the-Chinese-come-in-and-take-advantage-of-us kind of answer. But Monsieur Ba was at the opposite extreme. He said it was the best thing ever, and everybody agrees. I was taken aback. He saw how surprised I was. He explained that when the Chinese came, everything became five times cheaper. He said, “The Senegalese live day by day. Because 75% of the population earns less than a dollar a day, and because for every person that earns an income, there is another eight people that person has to feed, things have to be cheap in order for the Senegalese to survive.” The Chinese provide cheap goods (though I think also cheaply made) that the Senegalese actually use.

I responded with, “Wow. But I think that that creates co-dependence. Not only that, the money is going to the Chinese. If Senegal was self-sufficient and was able to produce their own goods, then not only would the goods be cheap, but the money would be going back into the Senegalese government, which ideally would be going back to the citizens. And it would provide for more jobs.”

He said, “If the goods are cheap and available, it doesn’t matter. We live day by day, so we don’t think about it that way. Plus, the Senegalese still benefit. The Chinese sell to the businesses, who sells to the providers and warehouses, who sells to the boutiques and wandering merchants, who then sell to the consumer. Everybody gets a small cut on the way. Everybody is happy.”

What he said makes sense, yet I still think Senegal needs to be self-sufficient to get out of poverty. But it’s interesting to here the perspective of a Senegalese citizen. My issue is that I continue to think as an outsider. But I won’t really understand the Senegalese until I start thinking like them. There are good things that I just don’t see or understand because I’m not there to experience it on a day-to-day basis. And seriously, who are we to judge? Monsieur Ba said, though I’m paraphrasing, “Look at the US and Europe. They already depend so heavily on China.” Senegal is just following suit.

Today I was able to see how global initiatives get implemented on the local level. I got to tag along as the nurses of the Poste went house to house to administer vitamins and pills. This doesn’t happen very often; maybe once every three months. It’s a national initiative, provided by, I think, the World Health Organization. I get confused because the WHO in French is known as OMS (Organisation Mondiale de Santé). It was one of those very stereotypical African health initiatives. I remember seeing pictures of Polio vaccinations in African countries. There was a nurse with an eyedropper squirting the Polio vaccine into the mouths of African babies.

Here in Sangalkam, we were doing just that, except instead of eyedroppers, we had these little red and blue capsules. We were giving them to kids six months old to five years old. The capsules were full of vitamin A and E. Since they don’t have leafy green vegetables, many children have deficiencies. My question is though they’re getting the vitamins now, what about the future? What about when they’re adults? They’re still lacking the vitamins in their diet. Instead of just giving them supplements every once and a while, wouldn’t the real solution be to try and change the diet? I guess that’s a little too much to ask. Diet is part of culture, and trying to change that would be changing part of the culture. Also, the little capsules contain absurdly high amounts of the vitamins. Your daily needs of vitamin A and E are 5,000 IU and 30 IU respectively. Those capsules have, I think, 100,000 IU and 2,000 IU respectively. I guess they’re really trying to make up for lost time. I don’t know if that’s healthy though. I always thought if you body doesn’t use all the vitamins you digest, you just pee or poop it out.

After giving the children the capsule, we also gave them a chewable tablet with Mebendazole BP. Since people here eat so much sugar, worms that feed on sugar tend to grow inside them. I know, it’s gross. But I’m glad that they’re trying to address both issues of vitamin deficiency and high sugar intake. The thing is, they had more of the capsules than the tablet. So I was like, “Aren’t some kids not going to get the second one? Isn’t that unfair?” Binta responded, “The tablets are available at the pharmacy; the vitamins are not.” The problem I still have is that it costs money at the pharmacy. It’s like they’re rationing health care. Only some kids get the second tablet, and while others, who can’t afford it, don’t get it.

Going around house to house, I got to meet a lot of people. And the whole thing was hilarious. Kids would be terrified of us. They see us only in the context of the Poste, so they immediately think we’ve come to give them shots. Though if a kid annoyed us, we would go “We’ve got needles and we’re going to use them!” One girl had to be dragged out of the house, held down by three people, in order for us to give her the capsule and tablet. It was ridiculous. I was like, “It’s not even a shot!” And this other time, when we approached the kid, she started screaming and running away. I thought she was afraid of us because we worked at the Poste. It turns out she was just afraid of me because I looked funny to her. I would go to touch her, and she would scream.

We eventually started going into houses, asking the parents, “Are there kids here? How old are they? Have they been given these?” And if everything was a go, we yelled “KIDS! WE HAVE CANDY! WHO WANTS SOME CANDY?!” The kids would come out and look at us with skepticism. The moment they tasted it, their faces would turn sour. They knew they were tricked. It was so funny. I laughed every time. Also, when we walked into a house with a tree that had fruit on it, the other nurses would start picking the fruit and eating it. Nobody cared. A nurse even picked one off the ground and took a bite, and decided it was gross. I was like, “Um. I think it’s on the ground for a reason.”

I also learned the most interesting trick. Because we would encounter kids on the street with no parents around, some of them would lie about their age. So to see if they were older than five, Binta would take their arm, stretch it over their head, and see if they could touch the opposite ear. If they could, then they were older than five. I had no idea that was even a thing. But it works! I also realized that’s what makes babies so cute. Their big ole heads and short stubby limbs. They’re so disproportioned!

I’m always surprised at everything the Poste does. Is there anything they don’t do? Oh, and I think this is very interesting. The word for candy in Wolof is “Tangal.” The word for candy in Mandrin is “Tanguo.” They sound almost the same. One of the Fellows said she thinks it’s because the Chinese were the first to bring them packaged candy, and so they adopted the name. It’s quite possible!