Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will...

This week in Senegal a journalist was sentenced to three years in prison for saying something about the national government laundering money. My tutor says this isn’t the first nor will it be the last time that a journalist is convicted and imprisoned in Senegal. After a brief conversation, in French, about freedom of speech and institutional corruption, he confirmed that with the justice system in its pocket, presidential powers dictatorially convict and imprison journalists for ‘bad mouthing’ the government. This has greatly disturbed me.
I go home for lunch to find another view point. My host Mom and Dad adamantly affirm that freedom of speech and democratic institutional transparency is alive and well in Dakar. Furthermore, the system was correct in its conviction because the journalist was given the opportunity to prove his statements and he didn’t- therefore he is guilty. Being the usual devil’s advocate, I respectfully challenged them to define ‘truth’ and ‘proof’ and question if perhaps the courts could have alterative motives (opportunities to practice being passive arise daily thanks to Wolof culture!). With vigor they insisted—“not in Senegal. Journalists must tell the truth because we can’t just have people going around writing whatever they want. Again, he was given an opportunity to prove himself and he failed.” Excited to understand more Senegalese culture, I politely proceed, “In the U.S. there are many different news sources, similar to here in Dakar. With the rights afforded by our Constitution people can write anything and it is up to the people to decide what to believe…” They found that a waste of time.

This evening I went with my Maltese-Jamaican-Chinese, net-working, crazy-energetic friend who has great dread locks to meet with some local film makers: a Senegalese documentarian and his French producer friend. They create films, my friend creates markets. Long story short, they thus far have two beautiful and high quality documentaries about environmental issues in Senegal. Well, that’s how they pitched it to us. As I was translating for my buddy I realized that while these documentaries definitely address environmental concerns in Senegal, there was a strong political undercurrent. We asked, “where have these films thus been shown?” They replied, “At one film festival in Paris…its too dangerous to show them here.” The conversation unfolds to examplify fear of oppression of speech/press/art.
The issues are real: streets washing out and homes constantly flooding during rainy seasons which translate to tragically decreased productivity not to mention immense nesting grounds for malaria invested mosquitoes; no regular garbage collection which translates to heaps of rubbish everywhere that street children rummage through only to find nasty disease, etc. Really, these problems could be easily mitigated by government attention. But, if a government refuses to let the issue be acknowledged then there is no problem.

I’ve heard and read about people being denied of freedom of speech and press. Nonetheless, it’s really struck a strong and out of tune chord this week. My American bred mind is really struggling with what it means to live in a society that could suppress the power of words.

So, while I can’t currently reconcile the bigger issue, I can do something else. (Frustrations are just opportunities that need actions!) The desire is to give African artists a platform from which to expose their art. I currently have access to copies of both documentaries in French, and we’re working on subtitles in English then Spanish and German (Its currently in Wolof). English should be ready to ship within a couple of weeks (I’ll keep you posted!). If you or anybody you know would be interested in seeing the documentaries and/or hosting a screening please let me know and we’ll get you a copy. They are both about 30 minutes long and display beautiful scenery of Senegal; nothing gory, no nudity, nothing overly depressing, just real issues. It’s a great idea for French clubs, university language depts, community organizations, local rotary meetings or a free evening to learn Wolof! Let me know: ellenk_miller@yahoo.com

Going on Margaret Mead’s words: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” So, while this might not solve the issue--- who knows, one day, it just might!

Beggnaa togg (Wolof: I like to cook)

1) me learning to dice an onion in the palm of my hand--- dank, dank (Wolof: slowly, slowly). My skirt is a batik I made at a workshop- traditional wrap around skirt. Its mostly worn in the house. because its not considered "well dressed."

2) Memouna getting the plates ready. Big bowl for kids.
Big plate for the parents who eat in separate room.

3) Left to Right: Moussa, Moustafa, Mame moussa’s
knee, neighbor/cousin w/ mouth open

4) Left to Right: girl cousin, uncle, host mom, host dad

5) it must have been good!

I've learned...

- Friday is the day every one wears their best boubous for the mosque and that all commercial venues are closed the entire afternoon;
- The currency is called Central African CFA franc(for short: say-fa) and is shared between 6 countries in West Africa. Nobody ever really knows the current exchange rate but it balances around 500 cfa/ $1 USD;
- A banana is around 100cfa, 50cfa for a sm. cup of oddly spiced coffee, 25cfa for the perfect size bag of sugared peanuts. I always have a 25cent piece in my pocket!
- Mamadou is the name of the man who sells me a banana everyday on my way to school. We always share a thumbs-up as I walk home from class;
- The post office, the only place you can buy stamps, runs out of them;
- How to eat/pick-apart an entire fish with just a spoon;
- Taxis honk at me because I’m white, therefore I must not want to walk. Or perhaps they think I can not see them despite the fact there are always at least 5 that pass you at the same time and they are bright yellow;
- A taxi is a taxi even though: its missing the entire inside door panel, any door handle, there’s a whole in the floor (one lady shoes fell through the whole and at the end of the ride she had to walk barefoot to her destination!) the turning column is broken thus all turns are three point turns and you have some sort of animal tail attached to the exhaust pipe;
- If time schedules exist they are rarely heeded;
- Deggnaa Wolof (I understand a little bit of Wolof);
- Everyone must listen to the mosque prayers projected over loud speaker 5 times everyday, despite the mixture of religions;
- Senegal has one of the lowest HIV/AIDs rates in sub-Saharan Africa; nonetheless there is a lot to be done;
- It takes approximately 5 days for a card to arrive to Dakar from the US. I strongly encourage all to try! Ellen Miller
Villa 509, Sicap Baobab
Dakar Fann
Dakar, Senegal BP 5270
- If you give one exchange student a hug, you’ll find that everybody wants one;
- Everybody needs hugs and if you give one, you also get one! Please hug someone today;
- Tubaab means ‘white person’ in Wolof. I hear it a lot of the streets., especially from li'l kids;
- A couple of jumping jacks and push-ups prior to a cold shower makes it much more “refreshing”! Ei!
- Senegalese music is very similar to Brazilian music but danced like Mexican music. My body is confused;
- There is a lot of need in the world and it is difficult to know where to start;
- All prices are negotiable;
- You get a much better price if you start every conversation in Wolof by offering peace (saying hi), asking how s/he is, asking how is the family and then thanking god that all is good-- even if its not really, you don't say so. You should start every conversation with this progression or could be considered rude. It’s tough stuff for a direct person;
- Religion in Senegal: 94% Muslim, 4% Christian, 2% other religion, 100% animist;
- Due to animistic beliefs of demi-gods constantly floating around, you should not comment on how cute/adorable is a baby. The gods could latch on to the baby’s soul and then you are cursed with bad luck and most likely harshly ostracized from the community. In a culture based around family, this is severe. Try looking at a baby and new mother and not issuing compliments!
- How to control emotions when a man looks me in the face and tells me that women are less logical than men but not have the desired grammar or vocabulary to respond… Then to kick his butt on the volley ball court!
- There are various kinds of anti-malarials (meds to prevent malaria). Lariam (generic Mefloquin), Doxycycline, Malorin and several more. All have different side effects. Mefloquin robs me of sleep from 3-5am every Wednesday night and bizarre dreams frequently invade. If you must take them be sure to do your homework first, you’d be surprise that a lot of US medical clinics don’t know their malaria facts;
- Ocean waves crashing against the rocks have interrupted every single one of my runs on the beach. I love it;
- Rotary members are similar around the world;
- Everything in Senegal is pas grave (French: not a big deal)
- daily cuts in electricity— pas grave
- no change in any store or at any street stand so that some times you can't buy something or must you forfeit your change— pas grave
- Amuma jekker ak doom (I don’t have a husband or kids in Wolof) Though it usually comesout something like, “Yes, I’m married. He’s works with the Peace Corps in Dakar. He is very strong and jealous.”
- If you can’t communicate, a smile and high five says a lot.
- Even in Africa, there are still only 24 hours in a day and I only have one heart and two hands.
- I have a lot to learn…

"...a journey without challenge has no meaning; one without purpose has no soul..."

As stated in my first entry, Rotary has challenged me to do something. Here's what I've been able to accomplish my first month...
With the help of Cody Fischer, Rotary Scholar from MN, we connected my club, Dakar Soleil with a club a couple of clubs from Minnesota, USA. Through Rotary Matching Grants a project has been funded to distribute mosquito nets to a local village to prevent malaria. This year the project was independently funded and was able to distribute over 500 mosquito nets. The mayor of one village said this was the first year in 20 years that there were no deaths from malaria! Just think what we can do next year!



Here I was able to translate to seal the deal for the mosquito net project between the President of my club, Jose and Ann, Rotarian from MN. Being that it was only my second week of speaking French I was very glad that my club president also speaks Portuguse. It was a tri-lingual conversation but it got the job done!

There are currently 4 Rotary Scholars in Dakar. Cody, Me, Jamie (Canada) and Lucie (New Zealand, not pictured).

One of the questions during my interview for the grant was: "What are three of the biggest problems facing US society and what would you do to fix it?" First on my list was education standards and reform. I didn't realize at the time, that I would focus much of my Rotary scholarship on education issues. Cody and I have started an English Club at a local elementary school. We give two, one-hour classes on Monday and two, one-hour classes on Friday afternoons. As I learned from my teaching experience in Brazil, I have a lot to learn myself about how to teach in another language. Commands, games, songs, activities-- all in French! It's really made my French/English dictionary a close friend! This week we taught "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes!" Its gonna be great fun! (Pics will come as soon!)

Last night my club (I must say the best club in Dakar!!) hosted a dinner for the District Governor. Unlike districts in the States, my district here covers 14 countries! On the right is my club President, and next to him is the Govenor from Togo. It was a great night and I was able to make some great connections and was even invited to sit at the head table with the Governor!!

Our district conference is in April and the four of us look forward to traveling to Lome, Togo.

For more information on Rotary: www.rotaryinternational.org

pourquoi pas? (why not?)

I’ve had blisters on every toe and what I now believe to be permanent blisters on the balls of my feet and heels. My toe-nail polish is peeling. I am a pedicurist’s worst nightmare.
I’ve worn only 4 pairs of sandals during the past month- I usually can wear that many in one day in the US. Life has started.

I am woman. He is man. Therefore we must marry. NOT! In Brazil, almost every time you dance with a different guy, you might be asked if you want to kiss him. It can be annoying. It can be fun. In Senegal, you get asked if you want to get married. At this point, it is simply annoying. They are so persistent. I don’t need another French tutor. I don’t need another Wolof tutor. I don’t need a Creole tutor. I don’t need to be married. I don’t need to have a boyfriend. I don’t need someone to take care of my every need. I don’t want to be another wife. I am capable and independent, thank you!

Last weekend, Moussa (host brother) asked if I wanted to go to this club with him and his friends. I had just finished a week of receiving annoying texts from a guy self made excuse was that I didn’t want to date him because I’m afraid of falling in love with him. Fine, whatever, you want to believe! So, when Mousa’s friends never showed I was a bit skeptical. Even though Moussa has been rather stand offish, almost ignores me, I was just not willing to trust. He asks me to dance. Ok. Simple enough. We dance, he meets my friends, I even buy him a beer. We leave the club around 4:30am, and he says he hasn’t had such a great night in so long and can’t wait to come back next week. He has endless compliments about my dancing. Then, the end of the night—of course we have to go home together, we’re host brother and sister—he says goodnight with a high five!! No attempts at kisses or marriage!!!!! I was soo excited, relieved—phew. I went to bed with a big smile! I think I have a friend- just a friend, finally.

It’s amazing what you can clear up when you actually understand a language. Moussa is actually 32, not quite my age. Not married and Mousatafa and Mamoussa are not his kids. They are his nephews. Moussa is the nephew of Mariam, my host mom, grandmother of Moustafa and Mamoussa. Their mom, dad and lil’ sister are in Italy.

It’s common for foreigners to receive Senegalese names. My new Senegalese name is Memouna Ndaye.

Last Sunday I helped prepare the lunch of Yassa (Chicken with citron/onion sauce and white rice). Moussa and I had arrived home around 5am and I woke up around 9:30 to start cooking the lunch for 1:30-2pm.I watched the domestique cut off the legs because I couldn’t do it. I learned to dice an onion in the cup of my hand. Of course, it’s dangerous and I would have been twice as fast if I did it on some sort of makeshift cutting board, but then it wouldn’t be Senegalese style. Plus, if I get tocook w/ another host family, I want to show them that I can do it. And it makes for less dishes! :)
By the time I served it and got back to the plate, there was barely any left! So I worked all morning while everybody slept and relaxed, then I barely got any. C’est le vie. I guess I can take it as a compliment that it was all gone, or perhaps they were just being polite…

Last week I started tutoring a little boy in a local neighborhood. When I arrived in their humble home, it was immediately like family. It was beautiful. There were 4-6 women cooking HUGE amounts of food. Tons of color. I really believe some of the most memorable moments of life occur while cooking w/ groups of women. The colors of the boubous (traditional clothes) and all the food, w/ the chips of paint on the walls and the flowers that somehow appear in cement was beautiful. The intimacy and spontaneity- it was a moment that only happens in a travel abroad. I’m really excited to become part of the family.

One month has come and gone. It is a lot of energy to start a new life, in a new language let alone two new languages, relatively by myself. I must be patient. I must be flexible. I must be realistic. This is life, not a vacation. Phil Cousineau’s The Art of Pilgrimage; The Seeker’s Guide to Making Travel Sacred reminds me: “Pilgrimage is the kind of journeying that marks just this move from mindless to mindful, soulless to soulful travel. The difference may be subtle or dramatic; by definition it is life-changing.”
I’m ready.

I would also love to hear what’s going on in life around the world…please comment or email me at ellenk_miller@yahoo.com

Today, I wonder...

…what it would be like to be the second, or third, or fourth wife?
…what it would be like to be able to love more than one person- equally, at the same time?
…how can some males truly still believe that females are less valuable/productive/intelligent/etc than men?
…how some women believe that they are less than men?
…why are people different colors/shades?
…what the world would be like if everybody was exactly the same color?
…how languages originated?
…how did people determine what sounds mean what?
…what are the cultural/sociological risks to a society in which the mother tongue is not written but only orally transmitted?
…what are the benefits?
…how long it will be before they slaughter the goat on the corner?
…what is the best way to execute philanthropic work?
… what really pays in the end, financial efficiency or relationships?
…who/what is “poor?”
…why platonic relationships are so difficult, if not impossible, to create and sustain?
…if learning two distinct languages, simultaneously, could physically swell the right side of my head?
…if my brain will explode from thinking too much?