It's official!

After two long months of training sessions, language/cultural classes, and a whole bunch of ups and downs; I am officially a Peace Corps volunteer! My training group was rare in that we were fortunate enough to have Hillary Clinton swear us in a little over a week ago. This past Friday, however, we had the "real" ceremony. I personally feel that having the Secretary of State swear us in was as real as it could get but we had the official ceremony nonetheless. The big event took place at the ambassador's house in Dakar. There were speeches given by our training manager, fellow volunteers, government officials, our Country Director, and our associate Country Director. I was incredibly moved by several of the speeches and found myself tearing up more than I care to admit. I'm not sure what was more moving, what was being said or the fact that I have FINALLY made it to this point in my life. That being said, I can't believe that in all of my previous posts I have failed to mention one of the main people who got me through this training process, my language and culture facilitator (LCF, Peace Corps LOVES their acronyms), Assane.

This is a picture of me, Assane and Clintandra (the other volunteer in my language class). I can honestly say that I don't know what I'd do without him. He always knows exactly what I need to hear in order to reassure me. I started out in this country brushing up on my French, the official language, but recently tested out into Serer (the local language most spoken where I will be living). Serer, as I've been told by many people native to Senegal, is one of the most difficult languages to learn. At the same time I'm trying to improve my French and learn some Wolof, the most spoken local language in most of Senegal. Needless to say, it's a lot and can definitely get overwhelming. It makes me even more wary of the American education system. Why can most people in EVERY other country speak at least 2, sometimes 3 languages and we can barely speak English?

Speaking of the people in this country... I had my last night with my first host family the other night and it was incredibly tough. I remember how hard my first few weeks here were with that family and how much I didn't want to be there; that last night, I didn't want to leave. I had a point while I was sitting out on the ground with my host mother and brother just talking for about 3 hours and I felt completely content. Life is so fast-paced and rushed in America, it's different in Africa. There are days here that are beyond difficult but then there are days like I had the other night. These times I feel at peace with where I am in my life and with myself. This gives me so much hope for the future that I will, in time, adjust to my new host family and feel at home here.

Tomorrow we head off to our respective sites. I am feeling terrified, anxious, excited, and apprehensive (among a million other things). I am not near to any other volunteers so it will be the first time that I am completely on my own in this country. I'll still be living with a new (different) host family but alone in the sense that I won't be near anyone who speaks English. We are also supposed to spend the first few months at our site just getting used to being there. This makes sense but I'm worried people will think, "What is this lazy American doing here, she never works or anything, just tries and fails miserably at speaking our language?!" Peace Corps is supposed to sensitize the communities against this and tell them the first few months are purely for integration but whether or not people listen to that is a different story.

I know I'm going to have tough times but yesterday, coming home from Dakar, I don't think I'd ever laughed so hard. Looking at my friends there next to me, crammed into this rickety old car, dripping sweat, it was too funny not to laugh. Now I understand why I was asked several times throughout the interview process if I have a good sense of humor. To be a Peace Corps volunteer, you need it.

I think I'll wrap things up here though. Time is a ticking and the amenities in my village are pretty basic so I need to get some stuff here in the big city.

Thanks for reading,

xx

The cockroach game

The cockroach game is not only a catchy title (I'm sure it at least made you stop whatever you were doing, eh?) but also one of the many daily adventures that I have here in Senegal! Yes, I am afraid of nearly all insects but cockroaches instill a special level of fear in my heart. I'm pretty sure that they are immortal; this is where the game part comes in. If you stomp on one and then lift your foot, it miraculously runs away! They also tend to sneak up on you when you are most vulnerable. This is typically when you're squatting to use the Turkish toilet, getting ready to bucket bathe or really anytime when you are indisposed. If you wash one down the drain or toilet, oh, it will crawl right back up. And did I mention that they aren't afraid of humans whatsoever? One jumped (yes, jumped, or maybe flew, whatever those creatures do) right down my shirt the other day which resulted in me squealing hysterically before flinging it out of there. The cockroach game is by no means any fun, but it is one of many we get to play here in Africa.

In other news, my last few weeks at my first Senegalese home are winding down and I definitely have mixed emotions. One part of me can't wait to move onto my permanent village, begin to get settled in, and start working on projects. Another part of me, though, is going to really miss my first family. From my little 3-year old nephew just straight up vomiting on me mid-sentence to my brother attempting to teach me chess in French (a game I don't even understand in English); everyday is an adventure for me here. I've developed a strong bond with my mother here. The other day she knew, without me saying a word, that I was feeling a little down. She proceeded to come and sit by me and just held my hand. She didn't need to say anything, that small display of affection was enough to comfort and calm me. It's weird how much I miss human contact but I come from a family that is very affectionate so to not have that daily reassurance is slightly disconcerting. When this human contact doesn't work, I've found that I can escape to the roof of my little home. Up there I can "do my exercises" (aka dance around like a maniac to alleviate my stress a bit) without any interruptions; other than my nephews sneaking up to laugh at me from time to time. Moral of the story is that I've finally found my routine here, only to be uprooted again, such is the life of a Peace Corps volunteer.

I think I'll end this here by just saying that I officially swear in as a Volunteer in less than 2 weeks! I'm excited, nervous, scared, relieved and a whole bunch of other things. I'll be sure to keep you updated as it gets closer.

In the meantime, as always, thanks for reading!

xx

1 month down, 25 to go!

The title of this entry is mostly a joke because I'm not really counting down the days (that would be toxic and pointless as I truly want to be here) but it just hit me that I have already been in Africa for a month now! That is crazy! So much of this adventure truly resembles the most wild rollercoaster ride that I have ever been on. I have already experienced many ups and downs and I've only been here for a month (as you may know by now).

I'll start with one of my latest downs and what I truly think has been the root of a lot of my initial discomforts here. As most of my friends and family know, I have been to Africa before. I was fortunate enough to get to experience the east coast of Africa when I visited Tanzania. I went with a bunch of other students from my college to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro and work with a few local orphanages. Climbing Kilimanjaro was incredible and I was very proud of myself but I was even more proud and at peace sitting in the dirt and playing with the orphaned children. I always had the idea of applying for the Peace Corps in the back of my mind but it was then that I realized this idea had to become a reality. The people of Tanzania were incredibly friendly. Everywhere we went they wanted to talk to us and be our friends. I felt immediately welcomed and almost as if I belonged there. Senegal has been a little bit different. It's not that I haven't felt welcome (Senegalese people are nothing but hospitable) but I also never remembered feeling this much like a tourist or an outsider while I was in Tanzania. Peace Corps is invited to the countries and communities that it serves in. Volunteers are here to help and to be integrated into the culture. Obviously that will come in time but it has just been something I've had a little bit of a hard time with.
Now, some of the good stuff. These are in no specific order, I just like to write down things as they come to me that have made me smile over the past few weeks. This is also all stuff that has happened at my Senegalese home (funny, culturally awkward things typically don't happen at the Training Center when I'm surrounded by other Americans).

My family is extremely kind to me. They always remember when I like something and try to give me as much of it as they can. This means lots of mangoes, chocolate, candies and more. I have two nephews that are 7 and 3 with whom the bonding has been interesting. The 7 year old and I get along great and he loves to tell me in explicit detail (in French) whatever may be happening right at the moment it's happening - "Alexx, I am whistling, do you know how to whistle? Oh look, that frog is jumping towards us, etc." The bonding with my 3 year old nephew though has been slightly different. He's really not used to being around strangers (white people) and has had a hard time warming up to me. That is, until I spent one evening teaching them how to do push-ups (real ones, man style). They thought me getting down on the floor was just about the funniest thing they had ever seen and proceeded to make me do push-up after push-up (about the most action my arms have seen in months). It was great fun.

 

Those of you that know me well know that I'm not the most fashion saavy person in America, let alone when living in Africa. Therefore, whenever I wear something that is even remotely good looking (aka skinny jeans instead of my typical loose north face pants) my family hoots and hollers and their favorite English way of telling me I look halfway decent is "You are fashion!" Cracks me up every time.

My mom has taught me the Senegalese way of cutting onions. This entails no cutting board and holding them in my hand. I proceeded to cut about 12 onions by hand and only nicked myself once which I consider a raging success.

The final funny thought I'll leave you with tonight has to do with the name of one of my brothers. This particular brother resides mainly in Dakar (the capital of Senegal) so I rarely see him and only met him recently. I didn't know his name originally so I would hear my family talking about someone they referred to as Peace Co (at least this was how my American English brain heard and spelled what they were saying). For the longest time, I assumed this person that they were adamantly talking about was me. I thought they had nicknamed me Peace Co (short for Peace Corps) and were CONSTANTLY mocking me right in front of me because I couldn't understand the local language they were speaking. Only when I finally confronted the situation in my broken French did I come to learn that Pisco is definitely not me but my little brother! This situation still provides a good laugh for me and my family from time to time.

I'm sure there's tons more but I'm about spent on blog time plus, word around the center is that we get pizza for dinner so I'm definitely going to go check that out.

As always, thanks for reading!

xx

Wait, where's Utah?

I felt this title was appropriate because it sums up a lot of what I am feeling over here lately. I'm feeling a little bit of identity loss. It's been happening so strongly that Utah seems as if it's slowly falling out of existence. Now, a loss of identity can definitely be good and necessary as well as terrifying. Most of my conversations here go as follows:

Bonjour! Ca va? Ah, ca va bien merci! D'ou venez vous? Je viens des Etats-Unis, l'Utah c'est mon etat.  This results in a blank gaze....followed by "Ohh Utah." Even though 90% of the time no one still knows where I'm talking about. Thank God we had the 2002 Winter Olympics there or we'd be completely off the grid! Oh and for those of you that couldn't pick up on that dialogue. I basically go through the hi, how are you/where are you from conversation resulting in the Utah dilemma. Everyone has pride associated with where they are from, whether or not they like to admit it. It can be incredibly disarming for no one to even have an accurate idea of the place you called home for 23 years. 

Speaking of that place I call home. The strangest things can set me off into thinking about home and they usually hit me out of nowhere like a ton of bricks. Sometimes I will catch a whiff of aftershave or different colognes that remind me of my dad. I will hear a song that reminds me of certain people or just America in general. Among other things, I miss the independence I had back home. It's difficult to just get up and go to the gym (by gym I mean go lift rocks up and down outside) or have the ability to fend for myself at meal times. Basically I miss being able to call the shots in my own life. Hopefully once I install at my site I will be able to cook for myself a little and develop a sort of routine in order to feel more at home. In America people typically  have a way of measuring if their day was successful. Maybe you got a lot done at work or you went to the gym and had a hard work out, etc. Here, I don't get that successful day to day feeling which can be difficult. 

Another frustration that I'm dealing with is the language immersion. I have been placed in a fairly large town because the language I am intensively learning is French. This can be good and bad. I'm excited because I get to really hone my French and truly become fluent but it's frustrating because most local people speak Wolof or another language among each other. This can result in hours of sitting around knowing people are talking about me (because they glance my way and giggle) and not knowing what's being said. Back home you guys might just be having a lazy summer day but here there just is no such thing at this point. Even on the days that I don't have anything scheduled, my brain is constantly working. 

Enough of the negative stuff though! Yesterday my language teacher took us to meet with a local painter. This man told me about a Peace Corps volunteer that he worked with a few years ago. He told me about how much she helped him in his work. She helped him reach larger markets and improve his business skills immensely. A Peace Corps saying we heard recently is, "In your Peace Corps service, you will help plant trees whose shade you will not get to sit under." I think this is completely accurate in the case of this other volunteer. She may not know how much of an impact she had on this artisans life but now I know. The people of Senegal know. Most importantly, he knows the success that he is capable of. A common frustration among current volunteers is that they feel like they aren't making any sort of progress. Instances such as this make me realize that we may never know the impact of our service but it is there and is incredibly powerful. 

Je m'appelle Aisha

So, my Senegalese family decided to name me, Aicha (Aisha?), after one of the wives of the prophet Mohammed. I am quite honored because it's a name that comes with a lot of dignity and respect. My family here consists of Mama Oumi, 5 brothers, 1 sister, 1 cousin, and 2 nephews...I think. I'm not sure because, in Senegal, people are constantly coming in and out of our house. I think it's partly because the little white girl from Utah has become quite a spectacle here. My nephews will literally just sit and stare at me for hours. In other family news, communication has been fairly easy. I got lucky (or unlucky, depends how you look at it really) and have a brother who speaks fluent English, French and the local language Wolof. He mainly tries to speak to me in French though but is definitely a good translator for when the whole family is speaking Wolof and I just stare with a dumbfounded expression on my face. My family has been incredibly hospitable and literally try to do everything for me. It's been a challenge to tell them that I can handle getting a bucket of water for my bucket bath by myself. Oh yes, bucket baths. Give me a bucket, little bit of water and some soap and I'm good for weeks! Truthfully though, I really don't mind taking them. I am here to see and experience how this culture lives and that means participating in every detail that I can.

I'd like to talk a little about the way family and my daily life works here in Senegal. We typically get up fairly early and have our baguette and coffee. I then ride my bike (if you don't hear from me for a few weeks it's because people here drive like maniacs and mowed me down) to my language teacher Assane's house. We typically have French for about 3 hours then I go home for lunch. Lunch is pretty much always rice, vegetables and fish. After lunch, more language which can eventually turn into a little American culture lesson for our teacher. He now knows how to say "what's up" to his homies. Dinner in Senegal is delicious. We usually have rice again, some random meat, and more vegetables. The sauce here is really spicy and fantastic and they put it on everything. In between meals I try to get to know my family and become comfortable in my new situation.

There are definitely good days and bad days just like anywhere else. I will be getting along great with my family, loving the food, speaking lots of French then have a dream about being home and come crashing on down. Overall though the people are very happy to have us here and respect the work that we are trying to do.

I know that I had more to say but my brain is on overload right now. I'll try to write more next time but for now, thanks for following me for the journey of a lifetime!

xx

Bienvenue a Senegal!

After a 7-hour flight to Brussels, 2-hour layover, 6-hour flight to Nairobi, 2-hour layover, then a 2-hour flight to Dakar, I have finally made it to Senegal! We got here pretty late on Wednesday so the Peace Corps put us up in a hotel right on the coast of Dakar. It was gorgeous (at least for the 5 minutes I could look at it the next morning) but we all bee-lined for bed. I don't think I had ever been so tired. At least 30 hours of consisitent traveling will do that to you, along with a 5 AM wake-up call. But, alas, (after, I'm pretty sure, inhaling a mosquito in my sleep) we finally made it to our Training Center in Thies, Senegal.

We were welcomed very warmly by the staff and other volunteers. After a few brief introductions we went straight into training for the entire day. Who knows how to use a squat toilet? I sure do! With only 8 short weeks to learn everything you can about an entirely new culture including their language, they don't give you much downtime. The long day was followed by an even longer evening when I couldn't connect to the internet. This seems like a minute problem but when you've had a long day, even the smallest problems can feel catastrophic. On a positive note, the training day ended well when a drum circle was started and local kids came and danced with us. One small boy in particular came and stood next to me and just grabbed my hand out of nowhere. That small gesture refocused me and reminded me why I wanted to come back to Africa in the first place.

Fast-forward to the night of mosquito bites, intense heat, and a certain cat making it's way into our room (I'm now positive that the cats here are spider felines as my roommates and I were awoken by one literally climbing the screen INSIDE our room. Not entirely sure how it even got in there which was slightly disconcerting considering the size of the rats they have here). Anyway, today has been more training and placement interviews to determine where exactly we will be going and what language we need to focus on. Bonjour francais, so we meet again. The rest of the afternoon will be spent with more immunizations (no rabies for me!), cultural training, and crash courses in the local language.

I'm feeling a mix of emotions about this entire process. I go through intense thoughts of fear and doubts about my ability to handle this. I miss home, familiarity, and my loving network of people that surrounded me there. I truly have no room to talk, though. There are people that have been here 2 years or longer. They have loved ones back home, they don't like the heat or bugs and they certainly get lonely. Yet they are here, handling it, and loving it.

Above all, I'm going to push on. Whenever I'm discouraged I just have to remember that little boy who grabbed my hand. He really is what this is all about. Creating a better future for the people of Africa and letting them see how positive a relationship with Americans really can be.

Lots of love.
xx

The Waiting Game

Well. Here I am sitting in the airport. When this moment came I figured that I would be sitting here bawling, making a huge scene, pretty much horrifying small children around me. But, I'm oddly serene (well maybe not serene, but numb). Don't get me wrong saying goodbye to everyone was one of the hardest things that I've ever had to do. People say that all the time - Oh man, this test is the hardest thing, this task at work, this paper, blah blah. But you have your friends and family to get you through those things. I will tell you, leaving your entire family and friends behind and going to depart on a plane for a country that I've never been to that is an entirely new culture...THAT is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. The most difficult part is that I'm choosing to do this. I'm not being sent away, I'm going on my own free will and that almost makes it harder. Lucky for me I have an incredibly supportive network around me who constantly assure me that what I'm doing is the right thing for me and that they are SO proud. Yes, that helps. And in reality, if I wasn't going off into the Peace Corps and just sitting at my mundane jobs, not knowing what I wanted to do, I'd feel a hell of a lot worse.

So, here we go, begins the waiting game to actually get to Africa. I will be leaving for New York flying into JFK at 5:10 PM, get there around midnight, shuttle it to my hotel then pass out face down from all the crying I've been doing. Tomorrow we have an orientation which I am very excited for. I get to meet all of the wonderful people I'll be training with and forming relationships with over the next 2 years. Then, Tuesday it's off to Brussels, layover, then SENEGAL. Ahhh!! After arrival it's 3 months of intensive training (learning the language, culture, and technical skills). Then it's off to our individual sites (if I can handle everything to the levels I need to be sworn in as an actual volunteer).

Sometimes I'm not sure if this is really happening. It almost feels like I'm living the life of someone else. Watching this person pack up two 50 pound bags, not knowing if she'll really be prepared enough. But how does one get prepared for something like this? I'm going to embrace the unexpected and make the best out of each situation that I find myself in.

This has been incredibly scattered so basically I'm in the airport. Tomorrow I'll be in New York. Tuesday I will be in Brussels. Wednesday I will be in Senegal. I am terrified, thrilled, devastated and honored. I will try to write another post once I arrive in Senegal at the Training Center.

Thanks for coming along for the ride!
xx