Home

It’s been a full week since I moved into chez Sene. My host family and I are still in the “cultural adjustment” phase. I live with a widow, her live-in maid, the maid’s elementary school – age daughter, and a teenage girl whom I believe is my host sister. The Senegalese are very into greetings: I received a stern warning after failing to use “Bonjour” or “Salaamaalekum!” (Borrowed from Arabic: “May peace be upon you”) when addressing my host mother. They are not, however, overly sharing with personal information such as age or relationships to each other (hence the “believe is my host sister”). When I first moved in, I was introduced to two other women and another little girl who were staying there for awhile. People just wander in during meals and start chatting without revealing their names. This chatting usually takes place in Wolof, so I can understand snippets of verbs and prepositional phrases. All of the billboards, TV programs, church services, etc. are in French, but Wolof is the language of conversation. Thus, the more Wolof I learn, the more responsive my host family becomes (I received a round of applause from the maid’s daughter when I correctly asked her if she had had a good morning). After the first night, all of the CIEE students had a downtown sortie (excursion) where we discovered 1) how large and crazy downtown Dakar is and 2) that all of the host families are addicted to well-dubbed Spanish soap operas such as “La Mujer de Lorenzo” (“Lorenzo’s Wife”). It’s a good way to practice listening comprehension and my host mother will point out gross grammatical errors. Pictures of the physical plant to follow…

Frustration

At first, I didn’t mind that things here moved slower than they did back home. I was the typical Westerner with the romantic notion that Africa would help me to learn patience and not to be so connected. But I’m rapidly entering the hostility phase of my study abroad time after “le voyage de l’enfer” (the trip from hell). I wanted to go with my friends Shelby and Alicia to a bank downtown in order to exchange our traveler’s cheques, which it turns out are NOT accepted everywhere here like the program brochure said they were. We boarded a car rapide (cheap unorganized informal bus system which costs about 100 CFA = $0.20 USD) after the operator assured us he was going downtown. He neglected to mention the long detour to the picturesque village of Ngor – as in the Ngor beach I visited with Shelby and Kalii on Sunday. We decided to disembark and catch a bus, which cost 750 CFA for all three of us – Alicia paid as Shelby and I were short on cash. The bus took us near downtown before it reached the end of its line and pulled into the bus yard. While riding, we had seen a large bank and headed towards it and home. But when we arrived, we saw that the bank was closed due to construction. A nice man selling hats directed us to an ATM, only to find that it was out of order. Exhausted, we decided to walk until we catch a car rapide. Upon entering and looking at the pictures displayed before the driver, I realized that it was the SAME car rapide which we had left two and half hours earlier at Ngor Beach. Thankfully, we were all able to appreciate the irony. I’m typing this post in the school library, which I had been promised was Internet capable with all computers and that cables would be supplied. Guess whose computer didn’t match the cable….

Update: Shelby and I and a classmate named Alix took a taxi downtown on Thursday and were able to exchange traveler’s cheques, buy cell phones, mail postcards and still make it home by lunch. Oh, and that was with being led astray/bullied by some very persistent street vendors.

Reflections Part II

Thursday: Woke up and felt fine for registration – during Survival Wolof felt my gut revolt – entered the “Hostility” stage of cultural adjustment – passed out for a few hours – went back for family orientation – reminded that my family CHOSE to host – willing to accommodate American students – learned I had a widowed host mother and sister who played basketball
Friday: ACI cross-cultural orientation – hiked through developing Dakar to Baobab Centre – had hella cool resource person named Haby – ate large Senegalese meal out of a bowl – Dakarrhea returned – arrived back at Arc-en-ciel to find that Serigne had already packed up most of my baggage! – moved in with host mother Ariene
Saturday: Felt well enough to jog again – went on long walking tour of downtown Dakar for three hours with a nice guide who called me “Stevens” – upon return, scoped out the host mothers of my group members – found out that Kalii and I are “cousins” through our related mothers – came home and passed out – lovely salad dinner – mentioned “digestive issues” to my host mother – broke out the medicine box!!!

Reflections Part I

Disclaimer: The following posts come from a sleep-deprived and disoriented mind.

Monday: Went jogging – got lost in Mermoz area – roommate Dan does not seem like much of a morning person campus is size of a postage stamp – met Serigne the program director – neighborhood sortie – could see which neighborhood I would be living in. awesome tour guide dressed in Chanel saying, “I hate French” and “In America, Time is Money!” – met up with people at the roof party
Tuesday: Security Orientation – scared the CRAP out of me – girls hit by blunt ends of machetes for refusing to surrender their cell phones – Survival Wolof with AWESOME temporary professor – used computer lab to send email to family – French Placement Test – was as always one of the last to finish – didn’t know some things, but felt decently confident – oral test was wonderful, though I messed up “semaine” (week) and “semestre” (semester) and mild hilarity ensued
Wednesday: Medical orientation – learned that I probably won’t get malaria (thanks modern medicine!) – will go through adjustment phase – gender and diversity pretty cool – Mosaic of Diversity sharing (core values: curious, son, faithful, and fit)– gender role worksheet with Senegalese assistance – did US Embassy registration early so as to change traveler’s cheques with Molly and Faith – Molly was in a hurry to go shopping so I couldn’t walk back to find mine – ironically, we ended up waiting over an hour trying to find banks – able to see just how much CFA the US Dollar is worth – couldn’t fall asleep so chatted with Dan

The Journey

Saturday: Arrived at Wichita airport at horrifically early hour and met Kendra, a participant from my school. Flew with her to Chicago, then continued to JFK by myself. Met Isaac and Dan while waiting for flight – scoped out potential classmates.
Saturday night – Sunday morning: Long flight on South African Airlines. Chatted with my seatmate: a nice middle-aged woman from Durban, South Africa returning from a visit to her daughter. Took a few laps to prevent blood clotting. Watched “Paris, Je T’Aime” pour pratiquer mon francais – liked Natalie Portman’s clip, even though it was in English.
Sunday: Arrived at horrifically early hour and managed to meet my fellow CIEE participants on the flight while figuring out how to check in to customs. Was greeted by very perky program assistant Elizabeth on the bus as we watched the scenery fly by – Dakar definitely puts the “development” in developing nation – everything seemed unfinished – was assigned to Arc-en-ciel (Rainbow) dorm with others from SAA flight – ate breakfast and chatted with others – figured out how to use the télécentre with Kalii – went for a cab ride after lunch with her and Shelby to explore downtown – turned out to be an awesome decision – able to see famous Dakar landmarks and how cheap everything is here! - day seemed to last forever!!!

Leaving

I feel like I’ve been saying goodbye for quite a while now. I made the trek to Lawrence the last weekend in July for a send-off from some friends (hi K, K, and T!), and I received a few gag gifts during my “exit interview” from work. But the hardest goodbyes are the ones left unsaid. People have been chatting about all of the exciting things they’ve started doing this semester. When I saw a Facebook photo album from my scholarship hall’s events during Orientation, I almost lost it. I was fine while browsing through photos of the returning residents – and then I saw some photos of the new men. Men that I will be living with when I return – men who have had a semester of the KU experience without me – men who already have begun to construct their collegiate identities. Another benefit of studying abroad spring semester is that I have no say in roommate choice. This actually isn’t a big problem for me. Last year, I decided to go potluck again and thanks to my wonderful proctor ended up with a fun balanced room of freshmen. Here’s hoping…

Identity

I’ve usually defined myself as a scientist, since I’m further along in that track. But a line from my program’s welcoming email caused me to pause. “I know it will be quite humbling to be in the presence of historians, musicians, anthropologists, political scientists, linguists, literary critics, philosophers, and artists, all of whom are globally minded and determined to absorb Senegalese culture.” Hmmm, no science mentioned. In the process of taking Honors Organic Chemistry, I lost most of my scientific confidence before gaining it back with interest. During the losing stage, I had a conversation with my French professor and faculty mentor, who counseled me to stay in science if I wanted to be an African anthropologist. This quote reminded me that my disparate interests do set me apart from the crowd a bit, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I’ve just started to focus a bit on the humanities and hopefully this semester will lead me in a new direction.