Our group walking to our huts for the weekend.

Our 'room.'

Jamie and I in the mangrove. The tides are low in winter thus the dry land.

Typical Senegalese dish. Rice, fish (Baracuda) and cooked veggies.

Our weekend destination.

Adventures in Toubakouta

Last weekend I traveled to Toubakouta in the Sine-Saloom Delta of Senegal w/ a group of 13. Toubakouta is a city, but also a region of ecological reserve with mangroves and supposedly some of the best bird watching in the world! I was the only American w/ 6 Canadian, 2 English, 4 Swedish and 1 Belgian. We left around 5:30 Saturday morning all piling into a septplace (Bush taxi). It was my first time out of Dakar—more importantly, my first time IN Africa.

The sunrise was incredible. The African sun is magnificent!! It really looks like a huge ball of fire—like in the movies. The baobab trees are amazing. Their gargantuan trunks support a random spray of branches covered in spindly twigs. The twigs mimic the twisted, warted hands of the Wicked Witch. Nonetheless, they are beautiful—majestic. It is the symbol of Senegal and they tell a great story—one I’m just beginning to comprehend.

(photo: mangrove delta during the winter)
We traveled for about 5 hours and finally arrived at the Keru Bamboung. We then climbed into a pirogue (long boat) and traveled through an inlet of the ocean for about 30 minutes. Mangroves surrounded us. It was rather chilly (about 60degrees), especially with the breeze. Then we arrived on some shore of fine sand and were met by 3-4 men who helped us out the boat and were to be our guides for the weekend.
(photo: our taxi!! At least for our bags, we walked)
We then walked for about 20 minutes through the sand—I believe we crossed a peninsula of some sort. Finally we reached the ‘encampment’ for lack of a better word. It wasn’t quite a resort but it wasn’t camping. I got to share a bed with Jamie (Canadian Rotary Scholar) and it was to be my first time with a mosquito net around me. Touba supposedly has a lot of mosquitoes, all year round though we didn’t really see many. There must have been some, because I just got word that Jonathon, our Swedish travel buddy, was just diagnosed with Malaria….oops! (It’s actually quite common here and not as big of a deal as we make it in the States—about half of the current students have had it and have managed just fine.)

We were told that lunch would be at 2pm, but then sat there until 4pm waiting for food! Of course, people were crabby. We hadn’t eaten all day and our journey started at 5am! My American impatience was definitely coming out despite my best efforts. I had already mentally budgeted my lunch time for eating and napping. Well, now my nap was gone! Time schedules, ha! It was also interesting that I kind of expected them to come out with free drinks or something in compensation for making us wait 2 extra hours at the table. Nope, that expectation must just be the American in me.
(photo: tree with vulture during one of our walks)

After lunch we went for a walk through the mangroves. Babakar, a man who looks like a chiseled, decadent statue of 85% cacao chocolate, led 7 of us females through murky, muddy waters up to our mid-thighs with only the oyster encrusted roots of mangrove roots to grab onto. I couldn’t help but giggle with disbelief as the mud stuff squished between my toes, “of course I’m wading through mangroves in Africa—what else would I be doing?” An unforgettable “sensation.”
Yes, I was concerned about what could be in the water. Babakar insured us that there was nothing in it such as large animals or snakes. Also because it was salt water Jamie and I were pretty sure that no parasites could get us—and I found comfort in the fact that a local was in the water too. If there was a problem with the water 1) it wouldn’t be a tourist place and 2) a native wouldn’t be walking through it. We made it through ok---at least as far as I can tell thus far!

(photo: our bathroom. the shower is the head hanging down with trickling water pressure. the toilet flushes with the help of a cup of water from the bucket next to the toilet. the long 'pipe' is the wash system that made toilet paper not 'necessary.' all water comes from the reserve above.)

After dinner Babakar was taking people out to look for hyenas. (yes, purposefully looking for animals that could eat us-- in the dark…) While the idea was awesome, I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle the dark. The dark was more intense than the back of your eyelids in a dark cellar. No light pollution, no lamp posts. COMPLETE darkness such as I’ve never experienced before. I decided that Lion King had enough hyenas for me.

The next morning I went with a small group on a 1 hour nature walk that took 3.5hours. We were very diligent in our search for warthogs- Pumba!- but no luck. Maybe next time! I did thoroughly enjoy the choirs of 100 of birds laced in the Baobab trees.

On the journey back, I realized that things are becoming “normalicized.” On the way to Toubakouta we rode in relative silence, in awe of the true existence of the cluster of grass roof huts. They are not just images on TV. Now we ride home to the chatter of “Would You Rather” like the baobab trees are an every day occurrence. The sunset snapped us back into silence only broken by the click of camera shutters. The huge orange ball quietly blazes across the unrestrained horizon of pinks and purples. Senegal…
(photo: sunset w/ Baobab tree)

Monday morning I woke up thinking in French!!! It was just coming out! I was sooo excited. Of course, I don’t have all the words and my grammar is still rather confusing to follow but I can make sentences and it comes naturally. I’m very grateful it happened so quickly—now I can make friends!

This week I also attended my first Rotary meeting. I think I’m the lucky one of the current scholars because my club seems super active and fun. I really look forward to working with them.
Now, week four...

Dakar local game at the National Stadium.


View from the roof of my house unto the soccer field next door.


Juxtaposition of worlds. A man washes goats hides as another man kite-surfs just behind him.


The door to the living room, from the open air center of the house taken from my bedroom door.



My room, closet and 'princess' canopy that doubles as a mosquito net.

week one, plus a couple...

A couple of interesting things to share:

Friday evening we went to a local soccer game. For those who have never been to a soccer game abroad—you should, but with caution! This was the local championship game; between neighborhoods. It was held at the national soccer stadium—which was about half full. Of course, we (6 of us) were the only white people in the entire stadium. Eventually the white jersey team scored. Crowd goes wild! People screaming in French, Wolof or just screaming and dance awesome African dance moves! Half time, there’s a small band. Second half starts and the ‘other’ team scores a couple of minutes in. All of a sudden the field is filled with smoke bombs and all we can see of the other side are small fires popping up in the cement stands. Some smoke clears and we realize that the other side has split like Moses should be standing on the score board. The police AND present military personnel go running with full size shields and long rubber clubs to meet the divided people before they get to ‘our’ side of the stadium. “Our” side of the stadium just watches in disbelief and start to strategize a possible evacuation plan. After a 15-20 minute delay, with the teams jogging and doing warm up on the side lines—the ruckus is squelched.
I was in a similar- though slightly more treacherous- situation in Argentina in 2001. Thus I was fairly surprised that the only time our side of the stadium really reacted was when one of the police rough-handedly removed a rowdy crowd member. After the fact, I realized that it was pretty cool that the crowd wouldn’t let the police over step their boundaries either.

Then Friday night I was coming home from a friends and I got lost in the taxi. I might normally ask myself: how could this happen and how could it really be my fault? Well, there are no real fixed addresses. Similarly, it’s also quite Senegalese to tell you that they know something and to really pretend they do, but in reality have no idea. Thus, being in a sprawled city of approximately 2 million inhabitants, where I’m sure no urban planner has ever visited or been invited and after being here for 1 week I was expected to find my way home, in the dark, w/ no address and do it all in French or Wolof… HA! Riiight!
It took twice as long than expected and I ended up paying more than anticipated but I made it! For those of you wondering why he wouldn’t just drive off and possibly hold this American for ransom, I don’t think that was really an option for him. The way and amount of times he questioned if it was really my neighborhood and if I was really ok makes me think he really wanted to make sure I got home safely. Of course once I got out he was probably thinking that all Americans are this naïve and/or ridiculous….oops. I plan on getting a map this week and maybe even a tour!

THEN, late that night I did have my first ever run in with Montezuma’s revenge. Yes, it followed me across the ocean! For those of you who don’t know about the revenge, lets just say “severe traveler’s gastro-intestinal issues.” I’m glad to say it didn’t stay too long and today I actually woke up slightly hungry! One important lesson reinforced during this experience: don’t put off until tomorrow what can be done today. If you only have 4 sheets of toilet paper, don’t wait until the next day to get more because you never when you might really need it. I guess it’s all part of the experience…

The rest of the week was rather uneventful. I’m rocking out past tense in French! Next weekend, I might take to a boat ride to the Gambia (find it on a map and tell a friend!!) with a young British girl, Swedish guy and 62 year old nun. In the meantime, more walking through sandy dust clouds to school, eating unrecognizable meats, French, and hello Obama!!

In less than 100 hrs...

…so much can happen.

The 24 hours of travel went by faster than expected. On flight 2 of 3, I sat next to a very nice gentleman on his way to Dakar. He is a senior project manager with a major development organization; in particular water and environmental development. Jackpot! He has been all over Africa and has numerous contacts on the continent and in Dakar! Being that I’m very open to staying anywhere on the continent after my 6months in Dakar and have always been looking into development I knew he was surely God sent!

All my flight connections went smoothly and the international flight was actually almost too short to get any sleep. I arrived in Dakar around 6:15am (12:15am Chicago time). My luggage thankfully arrived w/ me! It was completely dark and the moment I stepped off the plane I was assailed with the smell of warm air! A smile took over my face and heart! I had arrived!

I was warned that the Dakar airport can be overwhelming with swarms of taxi drivers offering to carry your luggage and whisk you away. I think my time on the US/Mexican border grew me immune to pestering men who “want to help”—I easily ignored them. I waited but 2-3 minutes then I saw a guy a good distance away who was holding a sign w/ my name on it. Well, this guy who picked me up (I still don’t know his name) was everything I imagined a gorgeous Senegalese man to look like!! Besides the warm air, my first thoughts were: “If they’re all this gorgeous—God help me! And Allah help me!” :)

He doesn’t speak much English and my French is still pitifully weak. But he, of course, asked me if I was excited about Obama. We then started to ‘discuss’ music. Much to my happy surprise, he explained that salsa is big in Dakar! Who knew! I rode the rest of the way with a huge smile. I didn’t have the French vocab (or even the English) to explain what utopic feelings consumed my body at that time. Again: I amin Africa, it is warm, there is salsa music, I’m starting life anew-- and it all started w/ a gorgeous Senegalese man at my side! :)

He brought me to my host family who definitely weren’t expecting me that early. But they made up my bed and showed me to my room. My room is cement walls w/ a single bed that ends in the closet of two shelves and a hanging rack w/ no hangers. A large “princess canopy” covers my bed but I was told I wouldn’t need it now. There aren’t so many mosquitoes in the winter. (75 degree winter!).There is a cement desk under the window covered in a drape that resembles a long pillow case that matches the sheets on my bed. The door to right of the window also has a matching long drape. Though I still haven’t figured out why because the door is right behind it! A shelf is secured to the wall next to my desk. My forehead meets the bottom of the shelf,(men are very tall here) so all the tip-toe reaching will be great for my calves! As I laid to down to rest only another smile could show how much I enjoy the simplicity!

Thursday, day of arrival, was a Islamic holiday so nobody worked and nobody really talked to me for most of the day. They left me to “rest in my room”. Finally, Mousa (my host brother) came home and invited me to his room, with his friend, to hang out and listen to music. Mousa is around my age (I think), married, super skinny, a journalist, and a non-threatening guy. He also speaks English but agreed to only speak French, unless necessary.

Mousa and his two boys (9 and 12) and I had lunch and dinner with the domestique (live-in maid). Meals are communal. Everybody sits around one large plate of rice or couscous with some sort of meat or fish. They use spoons, I think because of me, but traditionally eat with their right hand. (The left is reserved for bathroom purposes).

Another major difference I will have to adjust to are the Turkish style toilets: aka a whole in the ground that you squat over! It’s an adjustment and I think I will forever wear skirts…

Friday I started language class. My prof is Rudy Gomis from the Southern part of Senegal. He plays in the Orchestra Baobab who are super famous and super good. He’s played on Letterman, nominated for a Grammy and has played at the HotHouse (my fav lounge in Chicago) at least 10 times! He also speaks Creole Portugese! Parts of Senegal and Cape Verd off the coast of Senegal speak Creole Portuguese. Thus I’m hoping my Portuguese will be of some use so that I’m not completely in the dark with languages.

At school I met the other Rotary student, Cody, who arrived in mid-November and various college students who are on study abroad. I never thought that I would say this, but I was glad to be able to speak English and ask some general questions about getting life started.

I made it to the beach both Saturday and Sunday. It’s about a 15 minute or $4USD taxi ride! Though most Senegalese are wearing sweaters, hoodies and scarves, we Americans headed to the beach! I got sun burnt! Sunday I also explored the downtown of Dakar on my own.

As my i-pod filtered in a shuffle of Brasilian samba, American country and Mexican banda the streets around me were a bustle of French, Wolof and I’m sure many other languages. People sell peanuts, shoes, fruit, peanuts, bags and more peanuts on the dusty sides of the street. (Peanuts are a major export) There is no grass and a lot of garbage. A lot of women are in traditional African mumus-- here they are called boubous. Some of the younger lady boubous remind me of Spanish flamenco dresses with the way they accentuate the hips and rear. It could be overwhelming. I’m sure if this would have been my first experience abroad and I knew absolutely no romance languages I would be incredibly overwhelmed and wondering what I had gotten myself into. Now, I just laugh at the thought that in a couple of months—perhaps weeks—this will all be normal to me.

So, now I have to get ready for another day of cramming French, some Wolof, not stepping on goat poop in the street, Turkish style toilets and whatever is thrown my way. I am safe. I am happy and once again learning my strengths and weaknesses. I thank you for your thoughts and prayers.

1 day prior to departure.

I've quit a  job I absolutely loved, in an economic recession.

I sold my car, in the middle of winter.

I've given away or donated over half of my personal belongings, even shoes.

I moved from a great apartment in the middle of a great city, back to my parent's home in a white, affluent, suburb!

I'm 25 and moving to... anywhere in the world, first stop Dakar, Senegal!

Tomorrow I leave for the north-west coast of Africa. I've always known that someday I must go to Africa. I've always known that someday I will throw myself into the world. Tomorrow is that day! :) 

Through the Cultural Ambassadorial Scholarship of Rotary International, for the next 6 months I will be:

-living with a host family in Dakar;

-studying French and Wolof (a native language of Senegal);

-finding a volunteership or job in development and/or policy;

-falling in love with Senegalese culture and people;

-dancing on the beach! 

At an orientation conference last winter a Rotarian clearly laid out the expectations of this opportunity. He stated that the quantity of money granted could build 5 wells in Haiti, thus save hundreds if not thousands of lives, but instead it is given to me.  I must now prove that I am worth- at least- 5 wells. 

Come along with me on this journey. Study French, or any other language, with me. Find Senegal on a map and tell a friend. Step out of your comfort zone. Here we go...