real coffee

I didn't think the amazing Ethiopian restaurant could get any better, but then they opened a cafe on the first floor with wifi and real coffee. So yeah, I'll be going there a lot now.
Last week was the end of my homestay. I moved out on Friday and was theoretically moving into my new apartment on Saturday. But someone died - we're not quite sure who - either our landlord, or our landlord's brother, or somebody's brother. So our apartment was in use for someone who came for the funeral. Right now we're staying in a different apartment (much nicer, which is nice because the landlord is paying the different) until tomorrow. We're supposedly moving in to our real apartment tomorrow. But if the funeral visitor wants to take their time, I really don't mind staying a while longer in the new apartment.
Anyway, above is Khrady Aita, the two-year old from my homestay family, posing for some photos.


Abdoulaye Diop, (my father), Oulinata Kebe, (my mother), and Ndeye Marieme Kebe, (her sister).
This is Fatou Diop. She makes sandwiches, juice, omelettes, fataya, french fries and coffee at a picnic table right across from our classroom. She's incredible.

The Internet is Working

So instead of doing some work on my project proposal, I'm going to use this bonus time and put up some more photos. I'm at my house right now, in my room, and we get internet here, every once in a while.
Juice (in our drumming workshop hut) - tamarin, bissap and bouye. The best is all three combined.
Mam Binta Fall (my French professor) taking the legumes out of the marmite.
I've never cooked so many vegetables without cutting them first. Saves time, and tastes better.
Keba Mane - Wolof professor and professional musician. Keeps saying he'll invite us to see him perform...it's been two months...still waiting.

Mam Binta and Fatou. They claim they didn't match on purpose. That's the plate of uncooked fish in the bottom right.

Art show the Thursday before we left for the village. It was about a man's travel away from Senegal to foreign countries, the things he lost and the things he learned. The artist had come to our class a few weeks before as part of a lecture. It was in Centre Ville, downtown Dakar, was free, and had food - my favorite type of art show.
The audience stood around the walls of the room, and some of the actors would stand up and wander around telling their story. They're covering their bodies with the blankets because sometimes travelers don't have all the necessary documents and try to hide from the authorities. I went with Abby and Alisa, and fortunately we met another student our age, a Senegalese girl, who acted as our guide throughout the show, letting us know it was alright to move around and take pictures.
Roof of hotel in Thies. We stayed here one night before going to visit the mosque, and before the village Mouit.

A kindergarten style class in the primary school in Mouit - this was Bintou's classroom (Fatou, my "sister's" daughter).
My mother (?) Aida, sitting by the cooking station.

The night of the grand ball/sandy dance circle, on the roof of my village house with Ngone and Astou (two of the girls who braided my hair).

Ndicke, Thione, Astou, Rokhaya, Ngone and Awa, on the roof during my photo shoot.

Clean Sheets!

Back in Dakar for one more week Chez Diop before I move out for the last month in Senegal. This last week I'll be theoretically putting together my project proposal, finding an advisor for the project, packing up my stuff, buying thank you gifts for my Dakar family, doing some French essay writing, and buying house supplies.









I finally accomplished one of my main goals of living with the Diops. I got a picture of Daba! She is the maid at my house who leaves every Saturday night to visit her family, then comes back Monday morning. She would never let me take a picture of her in her work clothes, and told me I had to wait until Saturday to take her picture. But I was usually not around when she would be in her travel gear...so it didn't work out until this morning! I was walking to school and saw her walking back to my house and cornered her in this boutique. So I finally got her picture. She has been an amazing teacher and friend for me in my first two months in Dakar, and has been so patient with my rough wolof and cooking skills. This really made my week.
Yesterday I "helped" cook lunch. I got to take the fish out of the pan. Yesterday was also the 50th anniversary of independence, but I saw more Easter celebrations, which was interesting in this 90% Muslim country.
Another family update, Khrady Aita got braids while I was gone. I was asked if I want them too, but I think getting my hair braided two times, in the villages, was plenty. My scalp is just now recovering from the nice grid burn I got in Moiut.

Naankat laa

Technically it means you drink by profession, as in you're a drunk, but I'm going to use a looser, nicer interpretation...as in I like to drink respectable things in general.

Probably my most favorite I naan-ed last week - ataaya and coconut milk. I made ataaya (Senegalese Tea) for the first time. The key is to pour it into tiny shot-glass like cups from far away, to make a good foam. It was my first time, as I said, so I think making it into the cup half the time was a pretty good record.
The other key to this drink is the sugar...it really doesn't taste so good when the cup of sugar to cup of tea ratio is not one to one.
This is the source of my second favorite drink. I took a horse/carriage/wood plank to the garden with Fatou, to see where many of the Mouit men go to work. When we were there, one of our friends had a little boy climb up a palm tree and shake down some coconuts.


When we got to our hotel in Saint-Louis after Mouit, Bouna - one of our academic directors - helped me crack into one of the coconuts.


The second red building, further to the right, was our hotel for four days - Hotel Sindone. Sindone means south in Wolof - we were on the southern tip of the small island of Saint-Louis, in the middle of the Senegalese River.





This is a view from the southern end, to the Pont Faidherbe, which connects the island to the mainland of Saint-Louis.


The boats are a view the other direction, to the island of fishermen, which is along the same strip as la Langue de la Barbarie, just next to the ocean.

Some more Saint-Louis. The European influence was really evident in the different house styles. This yellow one is courtesy of the Portuguese era of colonization.

This was meant to be. I had to go to her party. I think her name was Agnis...? Something like that with an "A." Her husband was in Mauritania, and she didn't want to celebrate alone, so this was her party planning method.

The Sabar

You probably can't tell from this picture, but I am dancing just like my sister/mother Fatou - practically a mirror image. I got the mbalax and "obama" down. (They have a dance where they say "obama" and it seems like the cool thing to do if you're young and hip). Really knew how to work all that cloth I was wearing.




I don't think he agreed though...the crowd didn't really react to my dancing. Fatou said I was too timid.


















There's another SIT student sitting down in the purple. It may also be hard to tell from these photos, but when I arrived at the dance circle, it was incredibly easy to spot the other 13 students. We don't blend in much, especially when we're all together.



The drummer is in the circle, on the right, and that's Fatou in the middle teaching us all a few lessons.

Rafetna!

I couldn't quite agree, but apparently my braids and outfit were really pretty - "rafetna. " At least everyone else in my group looked just as...rafetna.

First though -












After touring the schools we went to the park and two Belgian tourists showed up, so I got to go one the pirogue tour of la Langue de la Barbarie again.

Here Fatou, Beatrice and Jean-Paul are walking out on the beach, towards the ocean. It was great having these visitors come to the village - it made me feel like much more of an insider than probably was appropriate. I was proud to say yes, to Jean-Paul, I could speak wolof! He seemed impressed. He didn't need to know how limited my wolof abilities are..

After the tour, and after lunch of ceebu jen again - (St. Louis is the land of the ceebu jen - apparently a woman named Panda was the first, and the best to make it. We had it for lunch every day. I definitely have mastered the art of rolling rice balls with my hand while managing to avoid most of the grease drippings falling on my skirts) - we participated in a village clean up. Apparently once or twice a month the villagers come together to rake up the sand and bury the garbage.



Then I took my bucket shower - (even though this village was much more advanced than the last, the plumbing wasn't working at the time, so I still had to take water from the well to wash) - and we got ready for the dance.

Fatou organized the Sabar - a dance party with a tamtam drummer - to honor the 14 visiting students.

That's a hat I'm wearing. With feathers. It totally matched the green heels I was also given to wear. But the shoes didn't quite fit, and I struggle enough as it is walking through sand in a long skirt, so I stuck to my sandals.

Here are just a few of the many photos taken, illustrating our failure at fitting in and dancing like the Senegalese.

I like meat once it's cooked

...but I definitely don't enjoy the seeing-it-whole-and-warm process. I didn't have to kill it or anything. But I did pluck the chicken, then saw Fatou rip it's already half-cut-off head off. I stopped helping once she started emptying the chicken ("Il a bien mange") and I think Fatou understood.






Here she is getting really into it, after I took a break for some fresh air. I was much better at washing the lettuce.






The proud chefs - Aida (first wife of Assane), Fatou (wife of Assane's brother Chere, who is working in Italy) and Adja (third wife of Assane, married this past January).












Bintou - Fatou's five-year-old daughter, with here peanut earrings that Aida gave her. It didn't take much time for her to become my wolof teacher (Lii lan la? - what is this? - she would quiz me on body parts, food and clothing).


The day after the chicken cooking day Fatou took me around to see all the schools - the primary, secondary and Koranic schools (daara). Everywhere she went she described the lack of supplies, classrooms, desks, and shade for the students. I definitely appreciated the explanations, but it was also pretty evident to see. Mouit is currently waiting for money from US AID to build the secondary school - right now they share offices and classrooms.

Fatou is on the right in her blue dress, showing me one of the primary school classrooms.


My mothers/sisters during one of our many photo shoots.

Mariame Diop

So far I like my third name the best. It's been the easiest to say, and the easiest to have people understand. Here in Senegal "Sara" is the brand name for things like spam and dish soap, and the other name I was given - Khrady - involves a lot of "r" sounds that I kind of can't make. So Mariame was a good start to Mouit.













My homestay in Mouit started last Saturday, until Tuesday afternoon.
I stayed with Fatou, and two of her husband's brother's three wives. I had one of the kids write down everyones' names and how they fit into the family, and still left a little confused.
But it was amazing living with these three women, and eight children.
It was definitely a different experience than the Kedougou village; for one thing, the TV was always on, and I definitely didn't bring enough clothing or makeup.


Sunday was the 28th, which is the day the eco guards go count the birds in la Langue de Barbarie. Three other students and I were living in families with eco guards (Mouit residents who work in the national park to take care of the park and animals, educate visitors, and involve the community in its conservation) so we were fortunate enough to go along on the count, and to have the most incredible breakfast picnic ever.


Birds on the island within the Senegalese River La Langue de la Barbarie is a stretch of beach between the ocean and the river.













Two of my Mouit sisters, Astou and Ngone. I'm not quite sure how they're related to the mothers in my house, but I know they are staying in Mouit to go to school in the village's secondary school.


Here are some of the eco guards, and our breakfast of bread with meat and onion sauce, coffee and soda. It was an amazing combination. Added to the fact we were sitting in the softest sand, surrounded by water - I'm starting to think the Williams dining halls are not so amazing...

La Grande Mosquee de Touba

Last week on our way to our second village homestay in Mouit - a village not far from St. Louis in Northern Senegal - we stopped at this mosque for a quick, hot tour.


This is one section of the ceiling being repainted. We were there on a Saturday, in between prayer times, so it was very empty compared to the thousands of Muslims that come for Friday prayers.


Before we arrived at the village we stopped for a picnic - (I had cheese in my sandwich! Cheese is such a luxury here. You can get cow cheese in the boutiques on every corner, but it's not refrigerated...and not quite that cheese-like.) - and some tourist-in-a-tree photos.