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Are you accustomed to keeping a diary/journal? Is the blogging aspect
natural/fun for you?

I’ve kept journals on and off for most of my literate life. Blogging is a bit difficult because I don’t know who my audience is. In my journal I can say whatever I please, but that is not the case with my blog. With my blog, I also want to come off as a decently intelligent and thoughtful person and creating such an illusion requires some time.


Your program focuses on ecology, correct? Why is Senegal a good place to
study this field?

Ecology as it applies to Sustainable Development. The “developing world” possesses a unique potential in that it is developing and could therefore, if the right people get involved, approach the development process in a sustainable manner; whereas the western, industrialized, developed, what-have you world’s very success is dependant upon a certain level of consumption that just won’t fly ten or twenty years into the future. Senegal is at the forefront of the Sustainable Development movement in Africa and West Africa is at the forefront of the Sustainable Development movement in Africa….this isn’t to say much. But people in high places, government officials and their ilk, are actually addressing the question of how to enter into the world market, how to become an economically viable if not competitive country, and how to do so in accordance with nature’s systems. Unlike the US, the NGOS aren’t the only ones interesting in recognizing that we have limited resources at our disposal and these government officials, alongside the NGOs in many cases, are working to acquire the knowledge, the tools, and the language to further Senegal’s development in accordance with our natural limits. And people also recognize that preservation goes beyond natural resources; at least in Senegal, I can testify to the existence of a deeply rooted culture steeped in mythical beliefs and spread throughout a diverse array of ethnic groups and that’s to be cherished. Certainly, signs of western influence (America and France in particular) are ubiquitous, especially in and around Dakar. But forcing Africa to adopt the American/Western paradigm is not only impractical but just plain dumb.


15. Traveling is almost always a tremendous growing experience. Though you
haven't been in Senegal for too long, what are some ways you have already
grown?

I’ve certainly developed some new immunities. I can’t identify any perceptible differences in myself, though they are undoubtedly there. What I do know is that I struggled a lot in the beginning to make the obvious adjustments, adjustments that are no longer quite so obvious. In this very limited context, I’ve certainly become more confident. I used to be afraid to walk around my little village in broad daylight—afraid of the constant harassment, afraid of the sand beneath my feet, afraid of the horse carts that always seem to come barreling right at me, afraid of my inability to speak….afraid of so much! But the village is now my territory. If I get lost, I don’t panic. I’ll usually just ask someone where to go. I can now bargain with vendors, tell off men, catch a cab….little things that the mere prospect of used to send me into nervous fits.

A Day in the Life

5 am: Wake up to a prayer call blasted throughout the village on a crackly PA system. Sometimes I sleep through this one, though I’m now conditioned to wake up at this hour. I usually return to a deep sleep, however.

7/8 am: (depending on when my first class starts): Actually pay attention to the alarm on my digital watch (I’ve now set three) and grope about for the switch on the wall that will fill my room with a lovely florescent glare (my windowless room is void of any natural sunlight). I then set out for the bathroom where I enjoy a refreshing cold shower in the company of a couple skittish cockroaches. Many of my friends take bucket baths with heated water, but I’ve come to enjoy the cold showers. Granted, winter in Senegal is not like winter in Cambridge. The average temperature is about 70 degrees Fahrenheit. But the mornings can be cold! I’ll then boil some water on the little propane tank/gas stove in my room for some oatmeal or, if I am out of time, I’ll throw on clothes and grab some bread and chocoleca (Senegalese nutella) at one of the many little boulangerie booths lining the main street.

9-1: Classes at the Living and Learning Center which, lucky for me, is only two buildings away.

2-3: Lunch at home. Lunch is the major meal of the day. And is almost always tiebou diene, the national dish. I believe the literal translation is rice and fish and that, with some vegetables thrown in, just about sums it up. When I read about tiebou diene prior to arriving, I imagined a stir-fry like dish with lots of little pieces of fish and veggies all mixed together. Not the case. One fish and an assortment of heavily cooked vegetables (half an eggplant, half a carrot, half a cabbage, half a manioc, half a squash, and half a sweet potato) are piled at the center of a bed of oily rice. A tarp is laid on the floor and everyone gathers around a big communal bowl. In my family, we sit on little benches and some of us use silverware, though this varies from house to house. Most of the women/ girls in my house use their hands while my father and I use spoons. The right hand is ALWAYS used for eating as the left hand is typically used for more unsavory tasks (most Senegalese don’t use toilet paper). Even I will fold my left hand against my chest while I’m eating, lest it slips out to pick up a piece of carrot that falls on my lap. My mom typically picks apart the contents at the middle of the bowl and distributes them, tossing me bits of fish and manioc. There are two variations on tiebou diene, tiebou xong (red) and tiebou wer (white) the only real difference being that tiebou xong is made with tomato paste. Occasionally lunch will be mafe, another rice dish with a peanut meat sauce. Meat almost always means mouton (sheep) or goat. And meat sauce almost always means intestines. I arrived just after Tabaski, an Islamic holiday when every family slaughters a sheep. My first three weeks consisted of a lot of mouton…which I don’t eat.
When I’m done with lunch, I just place my spoon on the tarp and get up abruptly and go and sit in front of the TV (the TV is on 24/7). My family will beg and plead me to eat more, but I repeat “sour na” (full) and pat my tummy. And that’s that.

3-5: More class

5-8: the market, Senegalese dance class, catch up on email, reading, what not….free time essentially

8: come home for some quality family time—usually watching an Argentinean soap opera dubbed in French. It is so painfully corny that sometimes I can’t watch and go and read until I am called to dinner at around 9. As a guest, I typically sit next to my dad in a chair in front of the TV and we will split any number of dishes, most often yassa (fish and an onion sauce), lakh (millet with a soupy peanut sauce), or boulet (fish balls usually accompanied by potatoes and green beans), the last being my favorite. Except for yassa, any time there is fish, it’s presented in its entirety and the silver wear does not come out as our fingers are the best tools for separating bone from meat. I’ll sometimes bring in some baguette to help me out. Again, I’ll be forced to eat as much as I possibly can. The other night, I refused more bread and my mother literally pried my hand open and supplied it with piece upon piece of bread.
While dinner is cleared, I’ll watch TV and pick at my teeth with a toothpick (though I still follow all of my western hygiene rituals, teeth-brushing isn’t really big here either and dental hygiene consists of toothpicks and chewing on a special stick I have yet to identify). I love Le Journal, the news program. I’ve become so used to constant commentary and short clips, but here, you can actually watch President Wade’s entire speech! Not simply the highlights.
I’ll then go to my room and read for a couple of hours during which my door will be knocked upon multiple times to present me with little treats: usually ataaya and oranges. Ataaya is the most wonderful beverage, ever. It is a very potent green tea typically prepared and served by the eldest boy in the family and requires a laborious preparation. The leaves are brewed with more sugar than I ever thought could possibly dissolve into such a small amount of water and then the thick green tea is poured back and forth between what are essentially two shot glasses, or demitasses. There is definitely a rhythm to the pouring; it is mesmerizing to watch. I’ve tried a couple of times and always spill everywhere. Once a fine foam forms at the top, the tea is served, two glasses at a time. It is served in three rounds and I am almost always presented with a glass from the first and third rounds. I’m a bit addicted and eagerly await it each night. My sugar consumption has increased tenfold here. The TV remains on late into the night, but I have learned to block it out (even though it is right up next to my wall) and will read or do homework into the night. We all generally go to bed between 11 and 12 and that’s that.


The final chapter of the Emma Interview is still yet to come...