The Latest Buzzz

Dry season. The season in which African honey bees are pushed out of their homes by forest fires and seek refuge on the tops of mountains, where forest fires don't generally go. Like this mountain.

Recognize the mountain? These are the spires that I had went on just a couple of months ago and had a nice camping trip. I was invited to go again with my buddy David and his friend who is visiting from the states, David (we call him David's David), who are just about the funnest guys to go places with, so off we go! On the way up we stop off at my friend KC's village, which happens to be on the top of a mountain also. We spend the afternoon and evening there, exploring her mountain and playing music with a mandolin and a tin whistle.

And my buddies are (LtoR): David's David, David, KC

David, KC, and David's David

The next day, David, David, KC and I head off to the spires! Biking, biking biking! We stop off in Fungolimbi, where there is another volunteer, Katie, and lots of food. We stock up on food, say hello to Katie, and continue on our way.

David, Katie, KC

On the way up I was grateful for the fires. There was no bushwhacking! instead of 8 ft dry grass like the previous time, we just walked over the grass ash and boulders that were now clearly visible.

The climb up to the top was smooth. It was steep, and a bit of rock climbing but no problem! We had all our senses, and our bodies were functioning perfectly, and we were all there to help and encourage each other along.
When we got to our camping spot on top it was lovely. KC and I sat up top and enjoyed the views.

The men went to explore the other spires.

As it turns oute were not on top of these rocks alone. There were just a few bees that were keeping us company. Until the sun started going down, each of us had one or two bees coming up to us, then leaving again. But then the sun went down, so it was no problem.

Yes, it crossed my mind that this could be a problem. I think it crossed everyone's mind. But when there are so many things going on in your mind, and not a lot of personal experience with African bees, who pays attention to just a small frequent buzzing in your ears?

As of now all four of us will pay attention to this buzz. Here is why.

We wake up to the most beautiful sunrise that one could imagine.

We are on top of the world, after all. Nothing above us, only below us. For some reason, the first thing every single person did when waking up, was put on our shoes.

A couple of bees came out. We decided to leave before having anymore bee problems, and so we started packing. Then more bees came. Lots more. They started stinging all of us at the same time. This situation became a big problem at lightening speed.

KC was the first to start down. We were suddenly all in our own place in time because we were all being stung by bees, and that hurts. One David tried to start a fire to calm them with smoke. The other David advised that we all go down. They disappeared. I was hiding under a sheet when they left, trying to get some protective wear on for my journey down. They started stinging me through the sheet, entering in the sheet, and getting caught under my hood, hat, bandanna and sunglasses. “Screw protective gear,” I thought, and I took the sheet off and suddenly realized that I was alone on top of the spires getting attacked by bees.

These ain't no American honey bees. These are African bees. You could call them African killer bees, because thats what they are. There is no other kind here. They are those really aggressive ones that don't sting to warn, they sting to kill. They don't sting in small quantities, they sting as groups. I didn't know this really at the time. I read it later on the Internet.

So, a lot of things were going through my mind, but at many different levels. While you are being stung by bees, your senses change, and your perspective changes. I was the slowest in leaving. Big ouch for me. I got the largest collection of bees after me because I was the last one the swarm found on the mountain. My face. They all went for my head and face. And my hands. They were all over my back and legs too but couldn't get me because of what I as wearing. I was ripping at the bees and unfortunately that took off my hat, sunglasses, hood, and bandanna. I guess that was ok at the time because it wasn't very light outside and I kinda needed to see to climb down this rock formation. But then again I couldn't see for long because the bees decided they wanted to go for my eyes... My f-ing eyes... There were points in the descent that I remember being hard to climb up the day before. I had gotten help from the others. These parts were no longer difficult to descend. Flying leaps work a lot better then carefully calculated hops. Then my ears... they dove butt first into my ears and got stuck there. They stung them. I couldn't hear a damn thing because of the buzzzzzzing of dying bees lodged into both ears. I could no longer see straight. As soon as I pulled one out of my ear another would go in. On top of that, bee after bee after bee was getting lodged into my hair, stinging my scalp or just getting stuck and buzzing around up there. They went in my nose. If I opened my mouth they went in there. I spit out bee after bee. I felt like I was going insane.

I still had a long way to go to get down. I needed my hands to stay balanced, but I needed my hands to get the bees out of my eyes. The stings hurt. But they were stinging me so damn much I almost couldn't feel it anymore, but it hurt... a lot. So did falling down the mountain. So did diving head first down rocks slides into seas of grass, swimming through them, trying to brush off bees to no avail.
I don't know how many times I fell. It was hard to distinguish on pain between falling and stinging. I think it ended up balancing out pretty well.
While the trip down the mountain was pretty direct, there was one moment where even the bees couldn't push me forward, however much they may have wanted to. I was shuffling through the grass and came one on one with a 10 foot cliff. I stopped dead in my tracks, looked down, had a moment with myself, and turned around to go back UP, towards the bees, in order to find a different way down.

If I had to describe what was going through my mind at the time, I'd say the main thing going on in the very very back of my head was “This really sucks. When will they stop stinging me. When will they leave me alone. I just want them to stop. Please stop.”

Other than that my body was just moving. Autpmatically, yet clumsy. I eventually got down to where the grass was burned. I realized that I could see better now. I heard David calling my name. He shouted something else but I couldn't hear because of the buzzing. I waited to answer until I got closer to his voice. I called out his name and said that I couldn't hear him. He shouted louder and told me to stop where I was. I stopped. I found it difficult to stop, but I did. I sat down and tucked into a ball. The bees were all over my face. I brushed them off and tucked my face into my fleece shirt. I waited for David. He stopped a ways behind me and explained the situation. He said we were far enough from the hive that no more bees were coming. We had to kill the remaining bees. He said I had a lot of bees on me. He was going to come hit them but needed my help. I needed to kill as many as I could reach before we came. I was listening intently. I knew there were lots of bees in my hair, so I took my hands, took handfuls of my hair and just squeezed. I heard pop after pop after pop after pop. It was a lovely sound. David told me I was doing a good job. He told me I had a lot on my back and shoulders. I hit everywhere I could reach. Then David basically ran up to me and started beating the shit out of my back, arms, and head. Ouch, but a good kind of ouch. He yelped a couple of times as my bees suddenly turned on him. David took a lot of stings for me. What a guy.

Then, miraculously, It was quiet. The buzzing stopped. David stood me up and gave me a big hug (David knows when one needs a hug). I was sort of on the brink of hyperventilating I think. He look me straight in the eyes and told me “Sheila, I need you to concentrate on your breathing, ok? I want you to take deep, slow breaths.”
So, I did. And I followed David weakly down the mountain. There were straggling bees. One flew straight into my ear. Fuck that bee. I tried to get it out but it was too far in. Buzzzzzzinig. Crazy moment: I grabbed some long, hard grass ready to make a stick out of it to jab it straight into my ear. Thank heavens for David. He just came up to me, pulled it out of my ear, and told me to keep going. At this point I was talking a lot. I was asking how the others were. I had no idea if they even made it down. David said they were all waiting for me. I was saying that we need to call Etienne about this (our emergency guy). I was worried that something could still go wrong. What if someone had an alergic reaction? I talked a lot about calling someone. Basically I was still in freak-out mode. My whole face was literally on fire. It hurt so much...
We met the others. They both looked at me and their jaws dropped. They seemed to be OK, just shaken up, like I was.
All of our baggage was on top of the mountain. It just so happens, however, that KC and I both had our cellphones in our pockets. David went to look for a signal to make some phone calls. The other two and I went to the forage to “wash up.”
We found A couple of local women at the water source. I'm sure we looked like the un-dead when they saw us approaching. They just stared at us, petrified. KC tried explaining to them what had happened. They spoke only Jahanke. We spoke Pular, and David spoke Malinke. Oh well, they got the gist, lent us a bowl and told us to put it in the onion garden when we were done.

While we were all in bad shape, I was probably freaking out the most. I wanted to rinse off my face but when I touched it I couldn't feel much skin, I could only feel bee stingers. I kindly asked the others to help me get them out. It was a humbling experience being surrounded by people carefully picking stinger after stinger after stinger out from around your eyes.
David's friend David was starting to get a rash. He was getting an allergic reaction. I was lost and confused. I was probably still freaking out. KC made a comment that we should probably get away from the forage because the bees come here to drink. Because we all smelled like bee distress signal, we would probably be stung again. Sure enough, a moment later a bee flies straight into my hair. Another lands on my shoulder. I hear that buzzing again. Something went off in my head “FUCK THIS!” And I started sprinting away from the forage toward the village. I had visions of laying down in a hut where the bees couldn't find me anymore. More buzzing. And they were following me. I was flailing at them wildly. Yes, I was going crazy.
Well, I snapped back into it when the buzzing stopped again. I looked back and saw KC jogging towards me and David's David coming in behind. “Sorry,” I said. “I want to get away from where there are bees.” KC stopped me to get the dead bees out of my hood. I don't know what we would have done without KC. Though she got stung a lot as well and had her own very, very dangerous descent down a much steeper side of the mountain, she managed to stay completely calm and helped to calm and organize the whole situation. She never rested. KC and David's David both went with me to the village, and found the first household and KC asked if David's David (Whose allergic reaction was worsening) and I could lay down because we were very, very sick.
So I got a hut to lay in, as did David's David. KC went to wait for David to come back so he could find us.

I lay down. It was just me and the villagers, who were coming in in shifts to check me out. The villagers were very, very nervous about my condition. They were very hospitable, giving me fruit, some insect bite balm, and asking if I wanted to bathe (this is pretty much everything that they could possibly do for us). Then time passed. After a few minutes I felt buzzing at the back of my neck. I reached to the sound and pulled out a dying bee and chucked it across the room. Then another. The two women in the hut stared in shock at the dying bees on the ground that I had magically pulled out of my shirt. They examined them for a moment, shared a few words, then squished them. Then the buzzing started up again in my hair. AAAHH!! So I sit up, start pulling at my hair trying to get it out. Three women come up to me and found the bees and picked them out. Then they started picking the other dead bees out of my hair. I asked for a comb and they brought me one. I spent about 15 minutes combing the grass, dirt and dead bees out of my hair, all with an audience of amazed children watching me intently. There was an impressive pile of crap on the floor by the time I was done.
At this time I could no longer see out of my left eye. My other one, I could see just a bit. I lay down, tears streaming out of both my eyes. I couldn't tell if I was crying or if it was the fact that I had been stung some 100-somethingish times on my face that was just making my eyes water
KC came in with news. David had made some calls. There was a doctor on the way with meds. David's David's allergic reaction was becoming worse. Matt was coming with a car to meet us at Fungolimbi with a car. The doctor came. We got pills and shots. He tested our breathing. Within a few minutes, according to KC and David's David, my swelling had reduced a lot. I could now see out of my left eye. Davids allergic reaction went away almost immediately. By this time we were all OK enough to make some jokes, and we even laughed a bit about this damn situation.

David's David and I got motorcycle rides 12 kilometers to Fungolimbi, where the health center was. Matt was already there with a car when we got there. The expressionon Matt's face when he saw my face was priceless. I got to see it for the first time as well (motorcycle mirror) and wow...

David and KC were riding their bikes back to Fungolimbi with two local villagers riding the other two bikes. Bless KC's heart. She had lost her glasses on the top of the mountain, had a terrifying experience and managed to take care of us the whole time and STILL rode her bike, without seeing much, 12 kilometers over rocky, steep paths in lightening speed.
We rode the car back to Kedougou. No one talked much, but David's David sang a lot. The whole ordeal started at about 6:30am. We got back the the house at 1:00pm. We've gotten lots of calls from the PC med staff asking how we are and prescribing us medicine. They were very worried about us.
I think that by that evening I had gotten pretty much all of the stingers out of me.
David went left to go get our bags the very same afternoon. none of us can believe how much this man can do. It's like, he never stops. He is back and safe. Bees don't come out at night. He slept under two giant baobabs near the top of the mountain and as the sun rose he carried 4 bags and everything inside down two mountains by himself, on foot. Is he even human?

Here's to David, KC and David's David for all staying alive and sane and helping me through this. Here's to Katie, the volunteer in Fungolimbi who, after receiving a call from Etienne (our emergency man), ran all over her village in her pajamas, waking the doctor and getting him to come to us in lightening speed. Here's to Matt for getting a car up there that arrived even before we did. And of course the villagers who welcomed us strangers and did everything to make us feel safe. And last but not least, heres to all the volunteers who greeted us at our homecoming and made us feel more than taken care of.

Pictures didn't come until David bought the camera back. But have a look! This is me before

and after. The swelling has gone down a lot in 24 hours, but I still look like a chubby pale chinese lady. And I'm purple to boot.

It isn't every day that I'll be posting a picture of my butt, so enjoy.

And Bees? I think everyone involved in this will no longer overlook that small buzzing sound in their ears. And so, who is up for some beekeeping?!

Until next time!

Toads Belly.

You know the dry season is really here when you find a toad wetting his belly in the leftover drops of the spout of your water filer.

Sometimes it's hard for me to write about interesting things because now everything here just seems normal. Kind of like going to that office job every day. Then I think really really hard and remember that nothing here is normal in an American's eyes, so I can write whatever I want! Then again, I am about to write about work. Work … yuck! Right?

Artsy intro:
December is cold here. I am wrapping myself up in my sleeping bag every night and loving it! It sucks if you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night though because you have to crawl out of your warm cocoon and go outside in the FREEZING 60 degree weather to get to the potty. Then again, it does reinforce th loveliness of the sleeping bag. Which brings me to a nice little theme of todays blog: The more hopeless your job seems to be when starting out, the more lovely it is when it actually starts working.. Right?

Gardens. Cold season is garden season. I planned this big garden project down to the last tiny hair on the back of my hand, only to find out that I had to stick that hand into a steaming pile of cow poo and then re examine the situation.
The villagers were just not with me. The upper bosses were just not with me. I was worried. I was nervous and grouchy. I felt like I was spinning in a circle as fast as I can trying to get to China and everyone was just looking at me and laughing. And this went on for a long time.
Then I made a phone call to the big boss and boom, it all started going forward. I finally got to bring that materials to villagers who were starting to think that I was a big fat liar. I finally got to take a break from sitting in my village and telling people to get ready for something that I had no idea was coming or not. Here are my materials :)

So the garden project. Without any respect to what I went through to get it, the project is kind of pretty. I have three new groups, each with their own personality, who now have a project to work on together. Its really cool to see people come together in a village that is known for not having one single functional group. I used to sit in on conversations where people were complaining about how there is not a thread of ogranization in Thiabedji. Now I'm not only sitting in on cconversation after conversation about whats going on in the gardens, I'm also seeing people who have long been scattered start to get into the rhythm of working together.

The first group worked the fastest. It's been about three weeks. Still in the honeymoon phase, and they impress me with their dedication.
Don't know how much you all are interested in gardening in African villages. But because I can, I will give you a step by step of the labor involved.
Note: Segregation at its greatest! Men start the job.

Clear an area. Cut 66 posts (yes I realize I'm a tree volunteer)

dig 66 holes

Put the posts in the holes

Attach super expensive chain-link fence.

Measure Plots

Dig Plots.

Men leave. Women come in and
Hit the dirt until its pretty

Add manure, rake.

Water.

Plant stuff from the nursery that has been brewin baby plants.
Then there is that constant daily gardening thing. Watering, planting, and the most neverending task; pest control.
Sooooo I can't leave the other two group out.
Group 2
Groups two is coming in close behind group 1 in speed of work. Their nursery is to die for.
They are about a week and a half behind in planting. Their organization is pending. But they are all very high in spirits. Woooo are their gardens baking in the sun! To do list: mulching lesson. Get these people a well.

Group three is straggling! It's all about the politics and its looking to be an uphill slope! The group members are eager to get it going! Today we FINALLY measured the plots. Their soil SUCKS! And the sun is a problem. To do list: lots and lots of poop. Mulching. Compost lessons galore. Warnings that this years gardens will suuuuck!
I decided on three groups for several reasons. One big group was recommended to me by my boss but heck, I know my village and I know that wouldn't work. My village is just too big. It practically has its own zipcodes. I went by neighborhood. One thing I didn't think of when doing this is how busy it would make me. I've got three groups coming to me all the time in all different kinds of requests. It keeps me busy, thats for sure.
So thats going on in the village, and my trying to get a well for my one good farmer. That is another uphill slope.
I've been thinking a lot about development, and what the heck it is. Heck, I've been thinking about it since I got here. But still, I keep thinking about it. Thats all I have to say about that.

Random fact time!
I'm also bothering this guy named Bocar in my village to make a flute for Phil. Phil is my buddy who is studying gold and is though of as a godly figure by my villagers. Phil is going home soon, bleh for me but yay for him! Anyway, it's fun getting this flute made because I'm leaning how flutes are made.
So this other thing happened this month. This thing called Christmas and then a new year came along. Eh... big deal. I got a Christmas present on Christmas, some nutrigrain bars and tupperware. We ate lots of food. I got to skin a pig all by myself that we threw away because it spoiled. I chatted with the other volunteers and got to teach Fanta about Christmas.
Then New Years came along and I came back to Kedougou to spend it with Fanta. This was not the best night. It is said that there is at least one moment in everyone service where a volunteer “loses it” with local kids. Well at about 11:00pm on January 31st I lost it with a pack of 9 year old boys. I guess the stress had been rising over these past couple of months. Then there was this night where I was walking the streets of Kedougou with Fanta and a couple of other local gals. Kids were sitting on the side of the road looking for interesting things to throw fireworks at. Why not shoot them at the tubab? 10 bonus points! Shoot what,, exactly? They are little balls they light and throw at your feet and they explode and make a sound like a gunshot. They leave your ears ringing. After getting hit two times I start watching these kids... the third one starts to light it and I go up to him and tell him to stop, rather rudely. It clicks in them some crazy button because, “Oh my god, the tubab spoke to me!” and a suddenly twenty 9 year old boys start running after me screaming at the top of their lungs all the shit that kids scream at tubabs. I'm walking away from them. They are following. I go insane.
Ok, not really insane. But I turned around lighting fast. The kids instinct is to run away from the angry tubab, but I grab one at random by his shirt and jerk him back toward me until his face is in my face and he is in tears screaming “don't hurt me, I didn't do anything!” Then I just look at him and say, “And me?! What did I do!?” Ok so then all the other kids think I'm going to beat this kid and they either start crying or picking up sticks and coming after me. Oh dear. I seem to have gotten into a fight with a group of 9 year old boys. A bunch of local men came running up to seperate us. Fanta was helping too by telling the boys that they had better leave me alone because I was Peace Corps and if they bother me the police will come after them.
On a lighter note. Our chicken had babies! 10 out of 10 to be exact! And the father is my rooster, Woohoo! Really, this is not news. Our chickens have chicks all the time. I think out family is up to like 30 chickens or all sizes. I just wanted to post this cute photo.

Thats all folks!

The Peace Corps Experience

Peace Corps. What the heck is it, anyway? I've been here for a year and I'm still constantly learning new things and finding myself in new situations that can only be categorized as a Peace Corps Volunteer experience. These things are one in a lifetime, for sure. This month I've had it all over the board. This meaning that my once-in-a-lifetime experiences did it all for me. I laughed, I cried, I wanted to go home, I wanted to stay here for ever, I loved my village and family, I hated them. I felt like I knew what I was doing, I felt completely incompetent. I was full of energy and I even felt so exhausted I thought I would die (perhaps this is a hyperbole, perhaps not).

This month the maximum amount of time I spent in one place was three days. I averaged about a day or two at a place. Basically I just went back and forth between Kedougou and my village. Oh and there was this time I climbed some spired on top of a mountain as well. All in all this month I rode almost 600 kilometers on my bike. I now feel strange going two days without a rigorous bike ride.

Now really, what have I done this month?

I'll start with work.
Gardening season is starting. This is my second time around. I actually contemplated for quite a while about what I could do to really “help” my village this time around, using all of the knowledge that I can acquired over the previous year. Remember last year? I slaved over my own garden, pulling up to 160 liters of water a day and helped 15 households have a private garden of their own. I learned what worked and what didn't. Some worked, lots didn't. Over this past year I've learned how my village works. What the people do and don't do. This year I wanted to make something that would work. Something that would satisfy the people's desire and would do it with as little obstacles as possible.
So... I applied for funding for a gardening project for three groups in my village. About 40 people total will work together with others to make a total of 60 garden plots. The funding allows for supplies to be brought to my village to give the project a good start and to make it more sustainable. Gardening tools and chain-link fence are the supples. The fence will go up next to three reliable water sources so that people don't have to carry their water and they can garden together. It's like, group work. I thought about this a lot. I had it down to a T. I felt like this thing was on the back of my hand.

Time passed. I started mixing my plan with the people..

Then reality hit me. Wow. There is this thing I read about.... pure VS applied science. Never really got to put it into context firsthand until now. And I'm doing it in an African village. Next step, throw away everything you thought you knew and become … well... not the pure and perfect Peace Corps Volunteer. My role in this project is more like a sort of phantom/babysitter. Nobody really knows what to do in my presence other than nod and smile, and then when they don't do what I tell them, I have to mediate through drama by just standing there. It must be the anatomy of forming new groups that I hadn't taken into account.


My other big project is starting slow because I keep finding obstacles in outside help. Development. What is it? Giving a village a bunch of fish or teaching a man to fish efficiently and teach him the skills to teach his fellow men? Who knew that helping an extraordinary individual become a model farmer so he could be an example for and teach others would be so controversial. Why use funding to help one person when you could use it to help a whole lot? In theory yes, I get it. But in practice, shouldn't you look a little bit closer? Which project would actually be most likely to give positive results? I call in a case by case study.
So I have this really great farmer that I've been working with for a year.
If I could help him I could get him and his field to maximum capacity in technology I could then work with him to teach him to teach others. Doesn't that sound kinda cool? So yeah, I'm working on that and don't be surprised if I may need to ask for some of your guys' help (whoever reads these things, anyway?).

Now do you know why I've been putting off my blog? I'm in a strange situation of …. nothingness.


What the heck else happened this month? Here are some tidbits.

One bright and sunny morning I woke up at 6:00 and had a lovely 90 minute, 20 mile leisurely bike ride into Kedougou. I got there, pumped up with my big fat “to do” list for the next couple of days: Funding research, having an in-depth conversation with my PC representative, talking about finding some interesting new jobs, looking into schools for my future, studying for the GRE, stuff to buy at the market.
Well, as I rolled in, Matt, another volunteer was packing up his bike. I asked him where he was going. He said something about a two day trip to the top of some spires on the top of some mountain that I've never been to before. He asked if I'd like to come.
Me: “What do you think I am? Free?” Wait a second...what is a PCV? A moment of silence. “Sure, ok. I'll go.”
One of the things on my list was to “de-stress.” While it was the one thing that I didn't think I'd be able to do, it was actually probably one of the most important at the time. So I went. All together there were three of us. Matt, Alan (my good friend), and me.

Physically, me going was probably not the best idea. It was really exhausting. I had been biking almost two hours every day and my legs were really tired that day. So I packed up and we left in the heat of the day. After 5 hours of biking (we went really slow, it was really hot) we got to Koboy, the village of a fellow volunteer, KC, who happens to live on the top of a mountain. There I pretty much passed out from exhaustion. Had I known what was in store for the next day I may have died on the spot. The next day was a million times more exhausting than the first day. We left at about 7:30am and went non stop until we got to the top of the spires, which was at about 3:30pm. We biked on top of the mountain from one side to the other. Up and down, stopping at several villages on the way, one of which being Fungolimbi, where another volunteer lives named Katie. While everything was probably breathtakingly beautiful, I felt like I was going to throw up and could not really breath properly. There was this one moment when the spires (our destination) came into view. Matt got really excited. I couldn't help but say “wow, those are really far away.” And off we went.

We went all the way to a village called Maribou. It is settled on top of the mountain just below where the hill is the leads to the spires. Some sort of luck was with us because we just happened to pass a forage (water source) right before ditching out bikes to hike UP. We filled up. It was probably about one kilometer from the end of the last peanut field to the top of the spires. We got there, looked up at those giant spires (so close!) and thought we were almost there.

Nope.

It probably took over 4 hours for us to get to where we wanted to be. Maybe thats because we didn't have a trail. We didn't really think of a direction to go. We just went. The grass was taller than us. The grass was seeding. Grass bites. There are plants mixed in with the grass that bites. There are bugs that live in the grass that bite.

There are rocks on the ground hiding under the grass that twist ankles and make you fall. We walked through this grass that we couldn't see above for a long, long time. Yuck. Then when we started going UP, the impenetrable bamboo forests showed up. That stuff is dangerous. And really impenetrable. Look here.

We ended up turning around a lot and looking for a new way up. We found random cliffs below the spires that made us change course. We finally got up to the base of the spires and realized we were on the wrong side of them, so we scaled the wide of the base and made our way up, eventually, to the top. We stopped by some baobab trees (I love those, a lot) and took some pictures.

I eventually stopped being tired. I was too tired to be tired. Then we got to the top and it was just absolutely breathtakingly amazing and …. perdy. We played. We explored. We sat quietly and watched the sun set. We ate corned beef sandwiches and Werther's Originals. We drank the last drops of our water. And we slept, under the stars, on the very top of the spires.

The way back? Peace of cake! We were already sliced to crap from bushwhacking and exhausted from walking and biking. We ran down that mountain, surprised women bathing at the forage by basically guzzling water right from the spicket (ok I may be exagurating). We basically carried our bikes down the mountain and then biked another 40 kilometers home. It only took about 7 hours with no breaks more than 5 minutes long. When we got home, we still didn't know how tired we were. But we were happy.

Another thing that happened this month. Two holidays. Thanksgiving for us Americans and Tabaski, the biggest holiday of the year for Muslims here.

Which brings up the subject of my family. My host family. They are in a tough spot this month. Tabaski is kind of like Christmas. It's a very, very materialistic holiday. In my village, everyone needs new clothes and new shoes and nice hair and wonderful food. Especially the women and kids. Everyone gets their nicest and cleanest and spends the whole holiday just being happy and beautiful and greeting people. Before Tabaski is here people spend a lot of time worrying about how they will get stuff. It's just what they do.
It's hard to explain the situation of my family in my village. I will say a simple version. My family currently has no income. Some stuff happened that caused some stuff to happen and then some stuff happened and they have negative nothing and their spirits were right down with all of that. And boy, living there, I was kinda dropping right down with them...... (maybe why I didn't stay there much this month?). Family is family, right? We kinda know each other really well, whether we are from the same culture or not. I'm telling ya, it was the holiday that topped off their moods. Damn materialistic things.
So some stuff happened. And some more stuff happened. And then some really bad stuff almost happened, like the climax of make or break, and then it was triumph. The triumph somehow solved all of the families problems but kinda made me a bit crabby.

I got to bring my sister to Kedougou for two days, just a few days before Tabaski. This is my bestest friend in the village. She lives quite a redundant life and more than deserved a couple of days for herself. It was an amazing cultural exchange and actually worked out quite well. We stayed in Kedougou at Fanta's house. Fanta is my friend, a local woman who is the same age as my sister but lives a completely different life. My sister is a villager, born and raised amongst a small population and thrown into marriage and motherhood at the age of 15. Fanta is a city girl, raised middle class (which in Kdg is “upper class”), dating guys, and about to graduate high school and applying for colleges overseas. These are my two best local friends. It's funny. People who live in the same country like this often don't really get to know each other. Fanta has never spent more than a couple of days in a village, and Dalanda, my sister has never really been in a situation where she just got to be friends with someone who was raised, well, away from a village.

Dalanda got a couple days of luxury. It was great. Fanta was with us the whole time. When we weren't shopping for clothes for the kids and mom and food for the family we were eating great food or meeting other Peace Corps volunteers, and then there were the 6 hours of waiting while Dalanda got her hair braided in the salon (every village girls dream, apparently). There were also lots of times when we just all three laid in bed, stared at the ceiling and talked about the different paths of life that have been put in front of us. I think this experience really got all three of us thinking. Don't yet know where those thoughts will go, but it was really amazing. The whole thing was really fun but I must say, really expensive for me, a volunteer. But my family was in a rough spot. The smiles on all of their faces on their biggest day of the year... whether or not I was in a good mood, were nice and made it worth it.

Thanksgiving. A lot of volunteers came and a LOT of food was cooked. It was just like last year. I was thankful once again for everything that is in my life, good and bad. It's all perspective really. Dalanda had gone back to the village by this day but I got Fanta to come and see our thanksgiving. She enjoyed it I think, and ate a little bit (she is usually terrified of what we cook).

Tabaski. Boy was I grouchy. While I loved the family's gracious “thank you”s and was glad to see them getting along in perfect harmony and smiling so much, I admit I was a bit of a party pooper. I couldn't help but feel frustrated that it was the “stuff” that seemed to have turned their moods. I kind of hid from Tabaski this year. Just another cultural frustration? Maybe. Maybe one I got a bit too involved in. But I'm still glad I did.

I guess I'll stop there. This was kind of long. Sorry about the lack of photos.
Until next time.

Yeeeeeeee haw!

A million hours of public transport. Yes. Thats what I've done. To Dakar and back. Twice. To and from my village. To other villages, days and days of driving. Almost died a million times. My family with me, almost dying a million times. But then, eventually, getting used to the feeling and realizing the here, when traveling, you just need to put your life in the hands of... well, whoever you think controls that sort of stuff. But if you are gonna travel, in wind blown dirty hot cars, you might as well travel in style, right?

My family came to visit! What a strange and wonderful experience to let two lives and two families collide. The whole experience was a bit overwhelming. So many things coming at me from so many angles. While it was happening I must admit I didn't quite know what exactly was happening. Now that it's over, now that it's the past, I can see what happened.
Boy was I sick when my family came! I hear amongst other volunteers that it's common for healthy volunteers to get sick right when their families come. Perhaps it's an inner excuse to get sick, with your real mom by your side worrying about you and trying to make you feel better. Could that be?
This is the sickest I have been since I had been here. It started out as a cold thing and Fever, body ache, non stop headache. Bleh. It started the day before the fam got here and finally ended 10 days later, two days before the family left. Just to clarify my state of mind for my sick days. I was like... blah. Fever every day fluctuating from 99 to 102.6 degrees,yet we were constantly on the go and I did my best to ignore it (probably not the best idea seeing as how I didn't treat it). Mom got so worried. My bro and his guy were so patient with my really bad mood. The people in my village thought I was being rude. The sickness finally ended with my brother diagnosing me (haha) with a sinus infection/flu after the headaches got so bad that I could barely function and I was so clogged up there I couldn't taste or smell a thing. Not to mention I almost lost my voice and couldn't talk without coughing all the time. Eventually got on meds, it went away.
Now the pretty part of their visit. What a wonderful experience! I had the logistics of the trip planned out to a tee. We spent most of the time in my region. I wanted them to meet certain people and have certain experiences, and they did. I worked out when to give them luxury, when to give them my “rouging it” experiences. We ate tourist food (clean food), and I coaxed them into the local foods as well (here is the family eating dinner in my hut). We spent 4 whole days in villages. We did a couple days in my village (with local transport, something exhausting that I wanted them to experience, which they would probably do a better job of describing because I'm so used to it). We spent a very difficult 2 days in my village. The stay in my village was actually the most difficult time for me of the whole trip, which is not what I would have expected. With my sickness and the pressure that all the villagers were putting on me, I almost went completely ins ane those days. For some reason I had this lovely image of the village welcoming my family, maybe giving them a couple of gifts, greeting them, and then letting us be to explore on our own. How wrong I was! My village is... well... not like that. The problem with my village is that everyone is dirt poor, people don't really work together as one, and there are 1200 people there that want individual attention. Yes, there were many wonderful people who came and greated my family. My host family was wonderful with my family. My closest friends in my village were wonderful to my family. Numusara, my best farmer gave us a chicken. He is a wonderful man. Everyone else greeted us non stop all day ever day. We were nervous about leaving the compound. Or should I say, I was nervous. We did eventually wander around and... AAAHHH!!! We only had a few households we wanted to visit. My favorite people and best friends and stuff. But nooooooo that wasn't going to happen. Apparently the word got out that my family was coming (even though my brother was trying to keep it discreet by only telling the village “leaders” and telling them to keep it secret so we wouldn't get bombarded with people expecting my family to throw them a party). People stopped us on the road non stop. People I kinda knew, people I know I've seen before and people I don't know and have never talked who who apparently know me. They all gave me endless crap! Every person kept saying they were mad at me and ashamed of me for not telling them that my family was coming. How dare I not stop at every single one of the 120 compounds and tell each of the 1200 residents that my family was coming and that we wanted to greet them!? Yes, I realized then and I realize now that this is the cultural thing to say for the locals that really means “hello, I am glad your family is here, I want to greet them too, welcome now give me a present,” But I could not stop getting frustrated with their critical method of delivery and I kept giving them the same apologetic/argumentative response until I wanted to scream and cry at the same time. Man, I had so many things I wanted to show my family and so many places in my village I wanted to take them, yet after one lap around one small area of my village I went home and we hid. We just hid. I must say, I was still strong for the small amount of circling we did do. We managed to get some pictures and they are lovely.
I hope the trip to my village wasn't quite as stressful for them. I mean, they didn't understand a word I was saying to anyone, seeing as how I was speaking Pular only. All they really needed to do was shake hands and reply “Jam tun” to everything anyone said.

Here is my fam posing w some local kids.


Below - my two families combines

A Land Cruiser driven by a retired French man named Bruno picked us up the following morning. The second I left my village a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. The fam lightened up too. We were going exploring (where no1 knew me, yay!!!). We had a two day excursion planned with Bruno and we would go to three villages and look at three different local “tribes” We explored the Basari culture first in the village of Etiolo (Ech-oh-low). There we stayed at a nice “campement” and had a tour of the scattered village and learned about the ways of life of the Basari. Each household is a 10-20 minute walk away from the other. This made the Basari very difficult to conquer during colonialism because .. well they couldn't group together the people. The way of life of the Basari is still very, very traditional. They are animists that have slightly converted to Christianism. One of the most fascinating parts of Basari culture is their male initiation ceremonies. There are three steps to “manhood” and they are all quite fascinating. If you want me to explain them, call my cell phone and we can have a long converstaion about that.

below-walking through Basari territory

We then visited Pular nation. Hell, Pular is everywhere, so that doesn't count. We really just went to Dindefelo and visited the waterfall. We got to go one a hike to the waterfall after a really, really exhausting car ride to get there. Man was I sick!

Family at the waterfall

Then we drove to our last destination, a village on top of a mountain called Angel (on-gel). This village is Bedik. The Bedik is another Christian animist “tribe” and there are only about 8,000 of them in the world (I think). They have their own language and culture as well, and we got to see a little bit of it after climbing up a mountain and seeing the cutest, most quaint village that I have ever seen.

Something funny about our trip... I've traveled wit my family before and we usually don't really buy anything. Here, it was different. We ended up with an entire suitcase full of souvenirs. I think it may be because I live here and I know what is good! We got a ton of hand made Basari and Bedik stuff like masks, statues, flutes, carvings and jewelry. I knew we were in the best place in the world to get hand made stuff, so I made them take advantage. Oh, and while we were in Kedougou I made my fam take advantage of Kedougou's unique fabric that comes from Guinea (the country to the south which generally makes really cool stuff). We got my fam some “indigo” fabric, exclusively found in kedougou (rare in other parts) and got them hand tailored, custom outfits. Lovely. This got my fam interested in local fabrics and we ended up taking several market trips to buy more kinds of fabrics just because it's perdy and possible to make things with them.

What else did we do. Hmmmm. Spent the rest of the time in cities. Man did we do a lot of shopping! We went to Tambacounda and I took a 7 hour nap (sick). No Shopping there. We went to Thies and went to the tapestry factory (great art investment), and then shopped in the market. Then we went to Dakar and spent one day touring things and the next day, at the market bargaining for souvenirs for almost a whole day. By the time we got to Dakar I was feeling a lot better. It just so happens, I love to shop in Senegal because I like haggling for prices. Dakar is, to me, the most difficult place to haggle... my kind of place!!! We spent hours circling and I got to argue with people and yell at people and refuse to pay and walk away and come back again until I gave myself a migraine and had to go take a break. But I loved it deep down. We got lots of cool stuff that I can't even start to list.
We went to Goree Island as well.. a really touristy place that used to be a port for slave transport. What a fascinating island with a great history. But For me, of course, I couldn't stop haggling. We had a boy fix my brothers shoes because he was looking for work. While we waited another boy came and fixed my bag and another fixed Bill's flip flops without him really wanting him to fix them. I'm telling you, people that need money and are looking for work are about 100x more pushy than a used car salesman. We let the kid fix my brothers shoes because he was cute and spoke Pular. Then another one came and then another. We stood there for like 15 minutes until they were done than my poor family stood there while I bargained with these kids for like 15 more minutes in Pular. Ha! The sales people on the island are ridiculous with their pricing! You know, white people usually pay what they think items would be worth in their country. And on this Island, and in a lot of places in Dakar, there area lot of white people that pay a lot, which makes the sellers think that all white people should pay a certain price and all black people should pay like 10% of that price. Take this crappy tshirt for example. Bill saw a shirt he liked that I know you can buy for 4 dollars in a normal market (or less if you really haggle). This man would not sell the shirt for less than 20 dollars and got furious with me for saying that his price was ridiculous. He gave me a 10 minute speech about why Bill should pay 20 dollars even though others can pay 4 dollars. All this while boys were fixing Sean's shoes. I listed to him light-heartedly and then basically go told him to take his 20 dollar shirt and shove it up his ass. The next day we bought the shirt in the market for 4 dollars.
So, my family had fun I think. I think also that I exhausted them with three main things, 1 – public transport., 2- The mood I get in when I'm sick and finally 3- my obvious obsession with bargaining with the locals. Oh dear. Sorry family!
The trip ended on a good note with a midnight ride to the airport followed by me returning to the hotel alone at 1:30 in the morning, feeling suddely so alone and consoling myself by watching prostitutes coming and going from cars on the corner of the road from my 6th floor balcony until I got sleepy and went to bed. The next day I did that painful 16 hour ride back to Kedougou.
Sorry this is so long! But.....
I've changed soooo much in the last 5 weeks. All I've learned in this first year in country was just solidified by my five weeks off circling all over the place. Camp, circling Dakar waiting for my family, leading my family frantically through a country they don't know... all of it together did something to me.
A whole bunch of things kind of just came together. What I'm doing here and what I'm capable of doing here. Before these 5 weeks I had some plans sketched out but I wasn't sure how I could really get things done. The path was a bit blurry. Now.... it's not. After dealing with all the stuff I dealt with, after running around like a chicken with it's head cutoff and dealing with locals that come from every aspect of life, now I can see the path to a goal a lot more clearly. This next year is looking to be pretty freaking awesome. Not at all calm, and not at all lazy. And not knowing what I'm doing? Bring it on! I'm ready! And perhaps I don't know as little as I think.

Ok I have to tell this funny story really quick because it happened, like, yesterday.
I have these Senegalese female friends. I met them at camp (we were counselors together). Well, now I have local friends in Kedougou and we do some pretty freaking awesome things together. The cultural exchange going on between my new city friends and my old village friends... are both enlightening yet very different.
My city gals are going to go far. They are aware of womens rights and are on their way to success! Yesterday I went to a big soccer game in Kedougou with Fanta and Sira, two of my pals. (Fanta on left, Sira on right)

Both of them were there to support their teams but also to get their diplomas for Red Cross first aide. I arrived with Fanta late to the game and we were faced with a line of hundreds of people waiting to get in. Fanta skipped the line with a few sentences and a bribe and got us seats that were great considering all the seats were taken. Then, during half time she drug me up to the Red Cross graduation ceremony thing that was being broadcasted on the radio and being filmed for the national news. All the Red Cross first aid graduates stood in a line facing the audience, and so did I. Fanta brought me a first aide vest so I could fit in. Sira said that I would get a diploma too, standing in for her sister, who was supposed to be there but was sick and at home. So I got filmed getting Red Cross diploma with all the other Senegalese graduates. Wow was that fun.

(me and Fanta)

(Fanta and Sira getting their cirtificates)

The whole time I really could not stop laughing, and I took lots of pics! Then we watched the rest of the game sitting right on the side of the field (amazing seats!). After that I went to Fanta's house and we cooked dinner (more like I stood there and peeled a cucumber while she cooked and laughed at my terrible knife techniques.)
Thats all.
I'm gong to bike back to my village again. Got this garden project thing I'm working on...
till next time!