HIV and me.

Last week I had another “never thought I’d be doing this” experience—an AIDS/HIV test! No it was not another one of my sick, “why not/ porque no/ pourquoi pas?” moments. I had to get the test for my visa and admission to AU-Cairo. For those who are not familiar with the procedure, as I was not, it’s a simple blood test (‘simple’ for those that don’t have phobias of medical facilities and procedures). In Dakar, there are many, many facilities that do the test for free. I had to fight a bit to get my name on it for bureaucratic reasons because normally it is done anonymously. The ladies were exceptionally nice and I got my results back within 20 minutes! “absence of HIV antibodies” it read.

The experience was overall very interesting because I had no idea how to deal with the topic culturally. I haven’t been able to feel if it is still a taboo topic, if its “o.k.” to talk about with immediate family members or if I could go public. I had no idea how people would react; would they believe it was really for Egypt or would they think it was just a cover up for an unscrupulous personal life? So, not knowing what to do but not having any shame in the process and feeling I couldn’t hurt anybody, I thought I would whole heartedly help in the destruction of the taboo status…I told almost everybody I know! No problems.

Also in true Senegalese style, as I was going through the “Pre-test counseling” the lady asked my marriage status and once she found out that I was single without a boyfriend in the States and I’ve some how, beyond her wildest imagination, have managed to live in Senegal for 5.5 months w/o boyfriends offered to introduce me to all of her brothers and male cousins. When I politely refused she warmly assured me that I’d for sure find a husband in Cairo! Look at that, HIV counseling and Relationship counseling all in one and for free! What more can a girl ask for?!
HIV Test…check that one off the list…

Reflection...

It’s this time of the transition process where one gets trapped between two worlds, two families, two languages, two life styles. Sentiments change with the hours. Reflection is unavoidable.

Things I’ve come to love:
- Hibiscus juice, or more commonly known as Bissap. Red, sweet, makes mouth happy;
- Welcoming everyone every time you or they walk into the room, people are important;
- Knowing that I can drop in on anybody at anytime and its never a problem, people are important;
- Cold showers, it’s hot;
- Using the brown crayon to color my friends;
- Family meals, everyone waits for everyone to arrive and we all eat lunch and dinner together;
- People who walk meter after meter w/ you just to make sure you arrive;
- Drums morning, noon and night;
- Coffee sellers on the street. They push little red Nescafe carts around so that you can have coffee any time day or night and for only 50cfa (less than 1USD);
- Peanuts- sugar or roasted;
- Fridays. Unlike the US with its ‘casual Fridays’ in Senegal, Friday is the day to sport your best wears. Its not ‘church clothes’ but ‘mosque clothes.’ The streets are filled with color!;
- My host brothers;
- The ability and true freedom to talk about religion in all parts of daily life. The co-existence of religions;
- Mangos…after every meal;
- Reading novels in French and discovering new vocab;
- The OCEAN!! The waves! (the salt I’m still working on loving…)
- Mint tea that takes hours upon hours to make and serve;

Things I won’t mind leaving behind:
§ Taxi men, Honking taxis, Negotiating prices with taxi drivers;
§ Expensive fresh fruit;
§ Palm oil or oil in every meal…fried food, ughhh!
§ Cockroaches;
§ Fish bones;
§ Slaughtered goat parts in the sand/street;
§ How most Senegalese don’t use toilet paper but a sort of water cleansing system that leaves the toilet seat constantly wet;
§ Begging children;
§ Garbage in the street;
§ Hand washed, stretched out and sun faded clothes;
§ Construction materials that take up the entire sidewalk for weeks at a time and force you to walk close to annoying taxis;

Some things I wish I could change:
§ The idea that I NEED a husband;
§ The conviction that all white people are rich;
§ Literacy rates and access to education, especially for girls;
§ The number of hours I had to spend in the physical classroom that took away from the life classroom;
§ Complacency or the acceptance of certain things without proactive efforts that could be sooo simple to make things work any better;

Things I wish I could do differently:…I don’t go there, everything happens for a reason.

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. -Mark Twain

Randomness...

This is going to be a random collection of things.
Friday, June 19 was a day of awareness for Drepanocytosis or Sickle-Cell Anaemia. Sickle-cell anemia is a life-long, genetic and hereditary blood disorder that affects the red blood cells. Life expectancy is shortened, with studies reporting an average life expectancy of 42 and 48 years for males and females, respectively. Approximately one-third of all inhabitants of Sub-Saharan Africa carry this gene. It’s usually found in the same regions where Malaria is/was prevalent thus can also be found in Northern Africa, the Mediterranean, Turkey, Saudi Arabia. Approximately 300,000 children are born each year w/ the disease. According to the National Institute of Health, approximately 1 in 5,000 carry the disease in the States and it’s most prevalent among African American populations. I didn’t know any of that before Friday.

Carriers of the disease are much more susceptible to Malaria. Before I came to Senegal I had heard of malaria. When I arrived in Senegal, it was treated as a normal element of life in Senegal: everyone in my family has had it at least once. My friend Brian has it now for the fourth time. I have two weeks left…(fingers crossed!!!) Its existence is unavoidable thus it creates a very pragmatic mindset for Senegalese, that I admit, I’ve not yet fully acquired.

Rainy season is almost upon us. Every evening the sky becomes more grey and heavy. What does rainy season really mean? It means, constant flooding in the poorest neighborhoods. That means sewage everywhere…that means public health disaster…It means sleeping under the stagnant air of mosquito nets every night. It means swarms of mosquitoes and any one of them can knock you out for a week—possibly longer-- with malaria. It’s precipitated by growing heat and humidity. Thus the cockroaches have left their homes to fill our homes: the bathroom, the kitchen, the hallway, the stairway…every night cockroaches. I must say I’ve gotten to the point of just looking at them and making a wide circle to avoid them. Who am I to determine who/what has a right to live?

It’s getting hot. I used to say that I really like heat. I still do but my hair hasn’t been completely dry for a week. There is always a bit of sweat. I’m in simple sun dresses, how do Senegalese still manage jeans and long sleeve shirts? My friend visited a neighboring town today and he said it was 46˚C (115ishF) at 9am. It’s hot. I wonder if I’ll be cold in Chicago in two weeks?

I’ll be back in the States in 2 weeks. It wasn’t exactly as planned, but considering I had no real plan it doesn’t really matter. I’ve been accepted to the Master’s Program at American University in Cairo, Egypt for the fall. So, I’ll be back long enough to say hi and repack then off to Egypt for two years! Two weeks left…where does the time go?

What it means to be sick in Senegal...

It means:
-you must explain to every Senegalese you encounter that you will not shake their hand so as to prevent the spreading germs; then when they look at you like you’re a crazy American who is over paranoid about ‘germs’, you walk away;

-to explain to your host family that its not a good idea that you eat from the same common plate, or share a spoon w/ a host brother because, yes this spreads germs too; (“germs” is not a common concern here—everyone is family, same ‘germs”)

-the first sign of headache or fever brings the automatic question: “Do I have malaria?” “How long should I wait to get tested?”

-when you try to explain your ailments to the pharmacist its better just to write because a head cold does not help the accent;

-when the pharmacist hands you 4 different boxes of medication you must decipher the medical instructions in French to really know what each one does…why would he try to sell me one medication that makes the nose stop running and an anti-decongestant? Oh right…I’m white …money….

- frequent power outages cuts off the ceiling fan for hours at a time—the only hope of air circulation as you lay under your mosquito net—so you strip off almost all of your clothes except the t-shirt that soaks up sweat. Then it miraculously comes back on full speed and you start to freeze. Great for the body temp!;

-when your head is whirling from a pounding headache, your body is dripping sweat with fever and you’re trying to stabilize yourself on the toilet and determine which end it will come out of first, the cockroaches on the bathroom floor make for a great momentary distraction;

-a great lesson learned: check the expiration date on your medication before packing them. My Tylenol expired in February…there is no Tylenol at the local pharmacy…I don’t know who to trust and I can barely pronounce “acetaminophen” in English, let alone French;

- it’s a great start to loosing the 3 kilos gained by eating rice and fried fish everyday!

-what doesn’t kill ya, only makes ya stronger!

I just saw a man running and smoking a cigarette at the same time. I've seen some puzzeling things in this world, but really?...

Another Saturday morning...

You know the feeling when your heart is happy? When the muscle emulates the smile of the Valentine’s Day symbol? I feel that this morning…J I just spent another Saturday morning at Ibou’s workshop making ceramics, helping lil’ kids paint their masterpieces and joking with deaf and mute young adults.

(pic: Ibou with a proud student)

When I went to St. Louis in early March with the handicap kids I met a wonderful man named Ibou who over the past 12-15 years has completely dedicated his life to helping those rejected by society: mostly handicap and street children. He’s just one of those simple, rather timid guys who simply loves to help people. He has converted his humble home into a workshop, open 7 days a week, where only a tiny room w/bed and small fridge rest as his personal belongings. He shares everything from personnel items to passion for the arts. He currently employs about 15 children, many of whom are deaf and mute. In addition, he feeds them daily breakfast, lunch and an afternoon snack. Many of these kids cannot afford school or cannot go to school because there is no program to assist their needs. He has taught them a trade, but most importantly, he has taught them self-confidence.
(pic: the workshop)

Since St. Louis, I have spent every available Wednesday and Saturday morning there in silent laughter. They have even started to teach me French Sign Language! And to further emphasize my amazement described in my last blog—those employees that manage to hear some sounds and can ‘grunt’ back in response (sorry, I don’t know the appropriate term) understand and can respond in French and Wolof! Even though they can’t talk, they’re bi-lingual!

(pics:two of the boys who work for Ibou.)

Appropriate to the circumstance, words can’t describe how I love to work along side them! Thanks to the generous donations of friends and family (including Rotary family!) in the States this week Ibou and I are going to buy 2 big gas tanks for the workshop. The tanks will allow for a more even pressure and larger ‘cooking’ capacity for the ceramics. When I told him this morning that friends have donated in order to help his dream, his large black eyes filled w/ tears and he gave me an awkward hug and a whisper “merci beaucoup”

Lovin' languages...

I am flabergasted. I just got a ride from a Rotarian and he was explaining the nuances between two synonymous words in French. Like most people in foreign countries, he took advantage of being w/ an anglo-phone and explained the acute nuance in English. He then gave me a example of similar phrases in Wolof. About 3 minutes later he mentioned that he’s originally from Cape Verde (the island nation off the coast of Senegal. The national language is Portugese but the local language is Creole-Portuguese). I threw in, “oh, I speak Portugese too!” He then switched the conversation in to Portuguese! That’s four distinct languages, fluently implemented within a matter of about 5 minutes!! I’m so jealous!
Yes, I can understand/speak multiple languages but my brain still has a VERY difficult time separating them all. I will fully admit that currently when I open my mouth with the intention of speaking Portuguese it comes out in French. Spanish speaking abilities hit the back burner a good couple of months ago. I’m not saying that I’ve lost it all—the speaking is just delayed-- because thanks to my i-pod I still get a daily dose of each language. Sure, it could definitely be the fact that I’ve stuffed 3 new languages in my head in the last 7 years, they’re all of the same linguistic family and I didn’t start at infancy…either way seamless transition is something I definitely aspire to and dorky as it is, I would be super interested to know how the brain acquires and digests languages.
The language abilities in W. Africa is one thing that completely amazes me. Senegal has a number of local languages depending on the geographic region and the ethnic group: Wolof, Peul, Joola, Manding, Sereer etc. However, for many reasons, urbanization being the main, almost everyone speaks Wolof. In addition, once of school age (if the family can afford school) they quickly acquire French. The facility was specifically evident when we were in the Casamance. There the local language is Joola (in French: Diolla) but there is also a large population of Pulaar (people who speak Peul). Yet when the groups mix everyone speaks Wolof and then you throw in a bunch of white tourists and its switches to French. These are not dialects mind you, they are distinct languages. How can the brain handle that?
I shouldn’t limit it to W. Africa though because even my European buddies could switch with ease. Jonathan my Swedish buddy easily slid between Swedish, English and French. Lies can switch between Flemish, French, English and a bit of Wolof…
The most obvious of deductions, for me, is that it’s an “American thing.” While our passport might get us into many places we are definitely less developed in the language department. And if one begins to suggest, “why learn other languages when everybody speaks ‘our’ language?” well – um, that deserves another blog. Until then, I better get studying!