Les visites rurales: Première Partie

I was very excited during the days leading up to rural visits, but also a bit cautious. I was at the stage where if I carefully budgeted my money, I could have taken a bit with me and not have had to leave gobs of cash just sitting in my armoire all week. Thus, I found myself on Sunday with $1 in CFA to my name, having economized my way through a beach party on Friday night – Saturday morning. Luckily, Senegal is a developing nation and things are quite cheap here. I was able to buy several little goodies for my future host family in Samba Dia with a little left over (aka $0.30). On Monday, I was double-checking that I had packed correctly when I saw one of the maids come out. I asked her if there happened to be any left-over bread from dinner last night, being careful to add that if it would be a problem, she didn’t need to bother. Five minutes later, my very angry host mother appeared at my door and asked me what would make me think to ask for bread at 6:30 in the morning. I didn’t fight back, but when the maid asked if I was going to eat the bread, I just brushed past her to the door with an “Au revoir!” Luckily, I had stockpiled some crackers for just such an occasion and had a decent breakfast nonetheless. I had let her know I was leaving a little earlier in the morning, so was a bit surprised. At school, I turned on the mooching skills and got some pieces of baguette (thanks Jen!) and learned that most of the other host families sent someone out to buy bread for the family a little earlier than usual. My friend Sally is living with my host mom’s BFF, and has concluded that she could never be a Senegalese woman as she is not “complicated” enough.

After waiting 45 minutes for some stragglers (one repeat offender in particular), we headed out of Dakar at 8:00 am only to run into morning traffic. It didn’t help that due to our strange itinerary, we had to go to Thies to pick up a coordinator for the Meouane group, drop the group off at Meouane, backtrack to Thies, and THEN head to the destination for the other three groups. Once we arrived in Samba Dia, the housing situation was worked out in a “first-come, first-served basis” – reminiscent of the orphan train tales I used to read in elementary school. I was surprised to learn that Jake and I would be sharing a host family, and very excited to learn that we would be living at the health clinic which serves a population of 9,000. Upon exiting the bus, we were greeted by our host mother who showed us our room off to the side of the clinic. My guess is that it’s the Senegalese equivalent of the Ronald McDonald House, which would make sense if you needed to travel several miles with your ill friend/family member. We ate delicious ceebu jen (they should probably just add it to the Senegalese flag), and then sat around for awhile. For you see, dear reader, while we were informed that we there were things to do in Samba Dia, no one had yet told us where they were or at what time to do them. After chilling, Jake and I walked around the village, at which point I realized that Jake is far better at Wolof greetings than I am. We met a guy at a shop named Malang, who was studying for his baccalaureate in languages (English, French, Portuguese, Wolof, Mandinka, etc.). Having seen where Amelia disembarked, we visited her house and met her host mother, who walked back to the clinic with us. About 15 minutes after we arrived, Tessah showed up, saying her host mother had suggested she go to the clinic as well. Hannah wasn’t far behind. I for one was relieved to discover that someone knew what was going on! We chatted for awhile before someone broke the news that our coordinator wouldn’t be back for our little orientation meeting that night, so we decided to explore a path which led to a beautiful clearing with trees. Upon our return, I showered and read a bit of “A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man” – so thankful I didn’t go to Catholic school in turn-of-the-century Ireland!!! Dinner was an amazing plate of French fries, grilled fish, and onion sauce, and our host mother continued with her refrain of “Lekkal! Lekkal bu baax!” “Eat! Eat well!” Stuffed, we headed to our room and talked for a bit before falling asleep around 10. Stay tuned...