Where is Libby now?

Libby departed for her 10 or so days out-and-about in Senegal on Saturday. Unless she is blessed with an internet cafe in Saint-Louis, we (myself the fiancé included!) shouldn't expect to hear from her for a while. But I know that if you are here at her blog, you are thinking of and praying for her. If you are at all visual in your prayers, it may help to know where in Senegal these places are that she is visiting. Here are some satellite-screens I captured from GoogleEarth. Click the pictures to see them full size.

In case you weren't sure (it is ok, I was not at first...), here is Dakar in relation to West Africa:


Here are the cities that she is visiting. There is also another village I think, but GoogleEarth did not recognize the name.


And here is a bird's eye view of Saint-Louis. It is the other major city of Senegal, and from the sky looks very pretty with the ocean and beach.



Like she wrote beautifully at the end of her previous post, this trip promises much less of the "Western" comforts afforded in Dakar. I was reading some blogs that Libby pointed me to of people who completed her SIT program in years past, and the stories are pretty amazing and out-there. I join you all in anticipation of how Libby will tell her own stories with her skill at writing.

Also, be in prayer for Ramadan, which started this past weekend. Senegal is a largely Muslim country, and Libby sounded both excited and anxious about experiencing it first hand and up close.

Settling In

Dinner last night? Spaghetti. Yes, a pile of spaghetti, topped with a lamb sauce, was brought out on our communal platter and placed in the middle of five or six of us members of the Samb household. We had been waiting on our dinner mat that had been spread out on the floor like always. The power had gone out in the entire neighborhood (which is called "Zone B") and so we dined, bathed in the sublte hues of a single candle and a hand-cranked flashlight. As we ate, I decided that it is in fact best, in Senegal, for one to eat spaghetti in the dark. That way, one might hide the fact that one has not eaten spaghetti with one's hands in about 18 years, and has successfully gotten it all over oneself.

Even as I continue to run into events and situations like this, I am starting to get the hang of things around here. Although each day hosts a variety of new encounters, a "typical" day in the past week and a half has looked like this:

7:30 AM- Wake up under my mosquito net and remind myself that I am indeed in Africa.
7:45 AM- Gingerly peek around to locate cockroaches before entering bathroom for morning shower.
8:00 AM- Recieve breakfast of powdered milk, sugar cubes and chocolate mixed into a delicious hot cocao, served with half a baguette and garnished with a lively bunch (herd? flock? gaggle?) of flies.
8:15 AM - Meet up with Illana, another SIT student who lives in the house across from me. Together we walk, avoiding random goats and aggressive taxi drivers to "Point E" where the SIT building is located.
8:30ish AM- Classes begin. The schedule changes every day, but the first class of the day might be our French or Wolof language classes, in which we are split into groups of five or so and instructed by local language teachers. Or, SIT staff may present a lecture on our Field Study Seminar or reserve this time for student presentations. We have a break at 10:00 and resume classes at 10:30, in the same vein as above.
12:30 - Dejuener! (Lunch!) SIT students disperse around the neighborhood to feed ourselves and take a break. Lunch is sometimes a large mango and a baguette with nutella, eaten back at SIT. Other times, it is the plat du jour at "La Palace" down the street. Sometimes, it's pizza at the largely westernized "Pizza Inn." Either way, it's usually a welcome time to socialize, run errands or stop by the internet cafes.
2:30 PM - Classes resume. Last week, the afternoon session was held off-site, at a place called Village des Arts. Here, we took introductory lessons in Senegalese dance and djembe drumming! I felt like I had dreamt something up and then stepped right into it as we hammered out the domba, lamba and dembado rhythms in a big circle under the baobab tree. The dancing was wonderful, fun and.....athletic. I think it is safe to assume there were 20 very sore Americans by the end of the week. Even for those of us in relatively decent shape, there are always new muscles to be discovered.
5:00-6:00 PM - This is generally when our day officially ends. A good time to hit the cybercafe, grab a mango from a fruit stand, or visit the other students' houses. Eventually, I make it back to my host family in the evening. There, after taking my afternoon shower (the Senegalese usually shower at least twice a day), I might converse with my uncles on the open-air third story, play with the kids who run around the house all day, or find some homework to do.
9:00-9:30 PM - This is when dinner usually happens. It is actually kind of a non-event in the household, something I had not quite expected. We sit down on the floor mat, eat from a communal platter for a few minutes in relative silence (and sometimes, in relative darkness!), then one by one people get up. They wash their hands and resume whatever they were doing beforehand, and the maids clean up.
11:30 PM - Bed time! I write in my journal a bit, read or study, put up my mosquito net and wonder if the kids outside ever go to bed.

Now that we have settled into our situation a little more (that is to say, the spinning in our heads has slowed to a subtle vertigo), SIT is going to shake things up a bit again. This Saturday, we depart for a week and a half, and will visit the cities of Thies, St. Louis and Touba. In the middle of those travels, we will be living for a few days with a host family in a village called Ker Sadaro. In the philosophy of experiential learning, our SIT professors have not given us much of an idea of what to expect. But upon telling my host family that we're going to the village, more than one have scrunched up their noses and said something along the lines of "Oh, it's not very nice there. They don't have much money. But that is where you will find real Senegalese culture."

Expect some interesting stories in the coming weeks.

The first week of classes

The first week of classes is nearing its end. I think I can easily say that a week of classes has never been so educational for me in any other circumstance. All of us students here at SIT feel almost like infants, thrown suddenly into a world of new stimuli, trying at every waking moment to make sense of it all. Oh, how I long for a naptime here or there!

I've spent the past week getting used to the class schedule and pace of SIT, and settling in with my host family. Aside from the dizzying conversations in Wolof, the cockroaches in the shower, the antics of 6-year-old Bachir and 4-year-old Bebe Fa, I've simply been trying to figure out what this Senegal place is really all about. Here is an example of an experience I had this week. I wrote it down in my journal a few days ago:


9 September
Two days ago, I gave my first presentation in class. I spoke about an article which explored the roles and activities of "griots," the musician caste, in modern-day Senegal. Griots honor the age-old tradition of singing the praises of members of the noble class, then collecting the obligatory payment. Historically, griots were born into a relationship with a certain noble family. Modern day griots will visit the houses of the descendents of "their" nobles," sing or play drums, dance and praise the family, then refuse to go away until they feel they have been sufficiently (read: monetarily) appreciated. They have extended this practice to any noble families, or even toubabs, or those of European descent. Two days ago, I read this in an article and presented it to my class. Tonight, I lived it.

My second day staying with the family Samb, I was reading over some of my studies and watching Senegalese music videos in the TV room with some family members, when I heard a commotion in the street (meaning the usual shouts and screams of children were a little higher than their normal decibal level). I asked Lamine, one of the men who lives here...I think... (uncle? brother? cousin?) what was going on, and he said it was the dancers. Impossibly, the mixture of drum hits, children screaming and whistles blowing became louder still, and I realized that the crowd had entered the house! Toute de suite I was outside the room, staring at the thirty strangers surrounding the three drummers who had taken over the downstairs area. What on earth was happening? I wondered, my mind far from my academics earlier in the week. I watched with wide, blue eyes as the drummers played along, and out of the crowd someone placed a bank note inside one of their mouths. As suddenly as they had arrived, they were out in the street again. "Je peux les suivre?" I asked my aunt. Can I follow them? "Oui, allez-y!" And I hurried out to catch the traveling crowd.

As I followed the drummers, hordes of dancing children and onlookers down the street, I befriended a girl named Ana. We walked together as the musicians continued into another part of the neighborhood. We caught up to them in time for me to hear excited Wolof interspersed with "Americaine."

"Bineta!" (for that is my new Senegalese name: Bineta Samb) "Bineta, tu vas danser!" Ana said. You're going to dance! "Oh, non, je ne sais pas danser!" No, I don't know how to! (For the Sabar dancing is very technical.) But the crowd was now surrounding me, and I was facing a lively, sweaty drummer who was gesturing excitedly. "We....are....(something to the side in Wolof) ...griots..... You are....American. You dance!!" And so I danced. He demonstrated a simple step, a sort of jiggling walk, and looked back to me in expectation. I did likewise, to the hysterics of all onlookers. "Now, you give (gesturing) money!" I had purposely left any money at the house, so I used some of the Wolof I have learned to say "Amuma xaalis!" I don't have money. Culturally insensitive to withold payment? Perhaps. Ana encouraged me in French, He wants anything you can give, so I removed a beaded bracelet and presented it to him. He was disappointed, but made a show of accepting it, then moved on.

After things had calmed down, Ana walked back with me. As we approached the house where I live, I told her "J'habite ici." I live here. "Oui, I know," she said. "My grandmere lives here." Of course.

Orientation

Greetings from the fiancé! As you might imagine, Libby has limited communication resources. While Suffolk has a computer lab and wireless internet, the lab closes at 1630 and usually her activities keep her out until late in the evening. So in her emails to me (my status has some joyful privileges…) she asked me to update her blog (and joyful responsibilities) on her behalf with some stories. I feel just the smallest bit like an Army spouse, in a way. My fiancée is over in Senegal and I’m left to pass along the good word about how she is doing. She won't be as gone nearly as long, and the roles (who is the one “deployed”) will shift eventually, but that spouse title will come much sooner. So yeah. Anyway, her stories:

…We did a really cool activity today (Sunday) where each of us students were given an object. I had a necklace with a strange round thing on the end; some were given bags of dried leaves, a can, beads, shells, etc. Then, we were sent out onto campus and into the neighborhood to ask people what the objects were for, what their significance was, how they were used and so forth. It was so interesting! We got to practice our French (which I can feel is getting a little better. A little.) and then we reconvened and learned what everyone else's object was. Really cool. I also went on a run this morning before breakfast with two other girls. We received more than a few "what are they doing?" type looks, but oh well! It felt good, and while we couldn't go down to the beach, the ocean was pretty close!

…Last night (Monday), most of us in the group went to a dance performance that was utterly unbelievable. I felt like I had dropped right into something I would have imagined, but never would have expected to experience in reality! We were in a courtyard in a school for the arts, sitting on a ledge watching this amazing group of men and women dancing sabar to a vibrant drum ensemble. You would have loved it! Afterwards, (one of them had met a couple of girls on our trip earlier in the week. They had invited us to the dance performance) they invited us over to have dinner. All 13 of us!! We walked through the streets to an elementary school. This troupe is competing in a national competition, the semifinals are on Saturday. They live together with their troupe in this school in order to prepare and practice day and night for their competition. Intense! We spent the evening listening to a man who didn't speak French, (he was only educated in dancing. He did not know anything else. Another man was translating his Wolof) teaching us songs and telling us about the history of Islam in Senegal. It was surreal.

…Yesterday (Wednesday), we did an activity where they dropped us in the middle of downtown Dakar for the whole afternoon to find out the answers to different questions, get lunch, and buy some stuff. It was exhausting, but really good. Today, we went to Le Village des Arts, where we will be studying visual arts, drumming and dancing. It was pretty cool!!

So hopefully we can all see a glimpse of the fun she is having over there. The last email she said the weather is hot, and the rain is pounding. (verify for yourself with the link to the right…) The flies are numerous but “tolerable.” She is staying healthy, though a few of her classmates are coming down with things, so lets all continue to wash her in prayer. She is slowly adjusting to the culture, and her state of mind sounds like that healthy place between anxiety, excitement, and fatigue. She starts her homestay tonight, and “I'm nervous, but as ready as I'll ever be to dig in ever further to this culture.” She’s staying in a house with 12 Senegalese, but they have experience with this American program, and the mother of the family seems well placed in the Senegalese government, in the Ministry of Industry and Artisans, so Libby is encouraged.

So there you go. The first week. Hopefully we’ll hear more from the source soon. In the mean time I invite you all to continue praying for her. I know she'll appreciate it, and I will too.

~ Mike Demmon, fiancé

Mangi Nii (Here I am)

Wolof Lesson:
Greeting: Salaamalekum! Nanga def? Ana waa ker ga?
Greetings are so important in Senegal that if you neglect greeting the store clerk and asking about her family, she very well might not do anything for you. Luckily, I learned that in our cultural awareness class today, and not at the store.

So, salaamalekum! Nanga def? Ana waa ker ga?

Now, I can tell you that I made it safely to Senegal, at about 0630 local time yesterday morning. African wildlife, women with impossibly large burdens on their head, horse-drawn cart, I have seen it all! (Okay, okay, so a four inch long snail may not really count as wildlife....) Suffolk University, in Boston, has a campus in Dakar which is our home for the first week of orientation. Here, with the Atlantic in view, the 18 of us American students are getting used to everything; each other, the time zone, the food, the language, etc. It is really exciting to finally be here!!! I already feel my rusty French skills being challenged and refined, as well as my digestive skills. Interpret freely.

This message is brought to you by the grace of my friend's laptop, as I have yet to master the internet cafes and French keyboard. Once settled in to my host family (next week), I will be able to have a more regular schedule, I think. Now, some poor Senegalese restaurant will have to figure out what to do with 18 toubabs. Wish me luck ordering!