A few nights ago, after accompanying Victoria to her host house, I walked the twenty minutes back on the route nationale with two Senegalese friends. While it was dark, it was only about eight thirty and we could see by the car lights streaming past us. Randomly, a shiny new truck pulled off the road. A middle aged white man, cigarette in hand, leaned out the window and called to us. We walked over and my friend whose French is the best out of the three of us stepped forward. He quickly indicated, however, that he wanted to speak with me. He told me he had seen me on the road before and wanted to make my acquaintance. Not wanting to be rude but feeling like this very forward man was being inappropriate and knowing that it would probably not be a good idea, I quickly searched for a way to kindly get rid of him. Before I could say anything my friend was already giving him my number. At that point there was nothing I could do but stand there. As I was walking away quickly as possible I realized my friend was still talking to him. A few minutes later she came running up clutching 4,000 CFA he had just given her.

When we returned to the house my two friends recounted the whole event to another friend as if we were freshmen in high school and I had just been asked to homecoming. The next day the usual “nanga deff” was replaced with “did he call?” He had but I decided not to answer. This news was met with shocked faces and exclamations of “why not!?” I tried to explain my reasoning to them but from the beginning I knew it would be difficult for them to understand since relationships are different in Senegal. Many women marry in their late teens and early twenties, often to men much older than them who already have money to support a family. In addition, Senegalese women tend to be open and flirtatious, so one of the most challenging things for many of my friends here to understand is that when I say I don’t want a boyfriend I mean it. Somewhere in the middle of all of this I realized that if any of my friends in the U.S had given my number to a complete stranger I would have been mad at them and thought they were crazy. But here, the culture and relationships between men and women are just different. Read more…

The Thursday after my debut as a Senegalese bridesmaid was the night when close family and friends accompany the bride to her husband’s home and involves much tradition and festivities. I arrived at the bride’s house just as she was being prepared to depart with a shower and two foulards (big pieces of fabric) wrapped around her. Her two suitcases of cloths and a giant supply of cooking equipment waited on a mat spread over the dirt court yard. But as the older women lead her out of the house their way was blocked by the bridesmaids who sang and clapped while demanding money from the groom’s family. The price started at 15,000 CFA then dropped to 10,000 but they ended up having to make due with 5,000.

Finally the bride made it to the middle of the mat where she sat by her little sister. I could not see their faces but their bodies shook with silent sobs. Everyone gathered around as the griot spoke about how difficult but necessary the move was. At this time I was motioned by a friend to follow her. We piled into a car overflowing with girls and were rushed off to the groom’s family’s home in anticipation for the bride. Her arrival was signaled by the honking car horns and four cars jammed packed with people and the bride‘s possessions pulled up in front of the house. Read more…

Last week I had the honor and surprise of being a bridesmaid in one of my Senegalese friend’s wedding. I first heard about the event a month ago when my friend was showing me, the new toubab, off to all her friends while giving them an oral invitation to the celebration. A few weeks later I was invited to her house for the receiving of Le Premier Cadeau, meaning the first gift. This is sometime before the wedding when the groom’s family gives the bride’s money to pay for the reception.

My first hint that I might have a bigger role than just being present and giving congratulations at the wedding was a week before when a friend and relative of the bride took my measurements for a dress that was going to match hers for the celebration. However Senegalese women enjoy dressing the same for all big events so I figured it was going to be like that at the wedding.

The day of the event was spent running to and from the tailors where the dresses were receiving final touches and waiting for the bride to return from the hair salon. When she arrived in full Senegalese makeup and dress, complete with purple eye brows and gold glittering lashes she was met by a cacophony of African drums and entourage of dancing women. Camera man in the lead the group danced their way through the house. Read more…

I recently started one of my apprenticeships at Sebikotane’s Poste de Sante. For the World Day of Diabetes the health center set up a week of free testing for all the people of Sebikotane and the surrounding communities. My job was to write the names, ages, neighborhoods and blood sugar levels of the people being tested. It was funny how what would be somewhat of a mindless task for me in the U.S. was difficult in Senegal. Read more…

This summer while house sitting for a good friend the fish died. Before the family returned my French exchange student and I spent a good fifteen minutes at the fist store determined to find a perfect replica so the children would not know the fish had died. We ended up not being very successful, however when they returned the children believed that Sounder, the fish, had changed colors due to the heat. Had they found out Sounder’s true fate I know many tears would have been shed. Read more…

“We watch you on TV.” This was the first thing my eight year old host sister said to me. At first I thought I had not understood her broken French. Then I discovered I was the first white person she had met. Next, the mother pointed to the fan in the room I sleep in with one of the two girls. “This fan is not good,” she said. “You need to tell your professor to buy you another one.” Seeing the fan worked, I assured her it was fine. I was then informed that two of the children sleeping in the living room did not have a fan therefore the father would take me to the city in a couple of days to buy them one. Later, while watching a TV show taking place in an airport I was told I need to make lots of money in the U.S. to bring back to Senegal and to be able to take the children back with me. Read more…

It was like entering a giant maze of fabric yesterday when we went to buy fabric for Tabaski, a big holiday at the end of November. Little stalls were squeezed together forming make shift streets and allies. Umbrellas and blankets were hung over head between the stalls giving the illusion that we were inside when we were really out. Fabrics of all different colors and textures covered the sides of each stall; some shiny and all one color, others bright with patterns made from eyelet cutouts, some sparkly and bedazzled and others with bold waxed patterns. As we made our way through the bends and curves of the allies, shaking our heads at the many fabrics placed right in front of our faces and people motioning us to follow them I felt like I was in a fabric cave. Read more…

Last night, after finishing my french homework and talking to Erin on skype, I left the Baobab Center around seven as usual. I walked back to the Corenthin house, trying to not fall in the brown river the street turned into after the rain and was just about to walk in, when I realized the front door was open. This was very surprising since I have never seen the front door open and the rare occasion I was given a key to go out I was given specific instructions on how to make sure the door was fully locked. I cautiously peeked around the door to find the front room crowded with women reciting a prayer. The first thought that came into my mind was ‘oh no the grandmother died.’ Considering I heard her listening to Bob Sinclair, a French DJ, earlier that day this was probably not the best guess as to what was going on, at the same time she has not left her bed since I arrived.

A tad nervous and not knowing what to do, I walked out of the doorway to think of a plan which, as the sun was about to disappear and therefore make waiting outside not a good option, was to call Rachel. In the process of getting my phone I was surprised by a ‘bon soir’ and found Victoria’s host cousin standing beside me. After explaining to him what was going on he insisted that I just say bon soir and pass through.

Later that night I found out that during the months of October and May the Christian women pass a statue of the Virgin Mary from house to house each night.  This is accompanied by a gathering for prayer at the house.

Yesterday after language classes we took a field trip to i’ile de la Madeleine, an uninhabited island off the coast of Dakar. In order to get there we took what looked like a long row boat with a motor. Due to the rocky shore around most of the island we were taken into a little cove that, aside from little pieces of plastic and other debris floating in the water, was absolutely beautiful. Being the group of people we are we all decided to explore the island. As we were lead up a rocky path by our french speaking tour guide, having to push away shoulder high grass and dodge tree branches, it was like going through a jungle! The whole time Ananda was narrating everything for a GCY flip video and Victoria was singing a song about baobabs which got us all laughing.

At the top of the island there was an amazing view of the ocean and Dakar. The tour guide explained to us that the French had originally tried to build a fort on the island however each attempt failed because the spirit of the island did not want people to inhabit it. The island is also known for its baobab trees, a symbol of Senegal. There they have grown spread out along the ground due to the wind. One of the baobabs is said to be home to the spirit of the city of Dakar.

After our walk around the island we all went swimming in the little cove. We had to watch out however for the sea urchins that covered the bottom. Before it was time to go we walked over the basalt rocks that make up the island to a little out look where we watched the waves crash into the rocks over time forming tunnels and caverns. On the way back we saw a gorgeous sun set just before the sky filled with the thunder and lightening of what is most likely the last rain, making a great ending to our day. Luckily we all got home before the deluge began!

I turned the corner and all of the sudden there was a wall of backs in front of me. What in the world! I thought, what are all of these people doing? I had just finished lunch at my host house and was on my way back to the Baobab Center for a Wolof lesson. Normally I would be winding my way through people resting on the street and ignoring all of the taxis that honk at me because they think white people need taxis. Today however empty cars clogged the streets. Only a few women and children were walking around. All of the men stood shoulder to shoulder in big groups on each side of the street. The only sound was the prayer being called from the mosque across the street. Then I realized it was Friday, the day all men go to pray, and therefore a completely normal occurrence. So I silently made my way through the groups of people and empty cars to the Baobab Center, feeling a little awkward and out of place. I have a feeling I will experience many more moments such as this in the months to come.