I finally installed in my village on May 16. We spent all morning meeting officials in Kaolack, Nioro, and Medina Sabakh, and then finally pulled up in the Peace Corps van to my village around 3:30. Children ran out to watch as the van drove into my compound. I couldn't help but smile at everyone. We arrived at my compound (good thing the driver knew which one it was because I couldn't remember) and there was a huge crowd there. We were ushered from the car to the center of my compound. Long benches were set up in a square around a table and some chairs (all under the large neem tree in the center of the compound). There were more than 50 people there and more kept coming - mostly women and children. I walked around and greeted all the adults on 3 sides, saying Asalaa Malekum and shaking hands. Then I was told to take a seat. My mother was very happy to see me and walked briskly over to greet me, Bismillah! (Welcome!)
I looked around at all the people facing me; I didn't know the faces yet, but I knew that I would get to know them all very well. My female community counterpart had brought her folder from counterpart workshop with her and sat looking very official. She looked much more comfortable here than she did in Thies (as I had expected that she would). My male counterpart then began to address the group. He explained how I was here to help, how at first I would just be learning the language and culture, how everyone should welcome me, that they must help me or else I might work with the other villages instead, how they were excited to have me, and how I would assess their needs. He did a great job of summarizing what he'd learned at the counterpart workshop. Then my father welcomed me as part of the community. He said that they'd wanted a volunteer for so long and were very happy to finally have one. He hoped that I would be welcomed as family and even though I was living with him, he hoped everyone would include me as part of their families. I was then asked to make a remark. This caught me completely off guard, as I hadn't been expecting to make a speech, but I thanked everyone for coming and said that I was very excited to be here. They had to repeat what I said for everyone since my village couldn't understand my accent. A few others spoke after me. One man said how he'd seen other Peace Corps volunteers and the work they did and was excited to have me. The head of the woman's group said that she would include me in everything and fight with the men over me. She said they would help me learn everything about the culture, even washing my clothes for me. (I wish!) The whole ceremony was very touching and entertaining - official yet casual. I enjoyed looking around at everyone and listening. I saw everyone excited to see me, women wanting to speak, and children shy to know me, and I just imagined my 2 years here and how hard it will be to leave at the end. I imagined all the relationships that I will form with these people, people who all want to know me, speak with me, and work with me. People who are excited to help me learn Wolof and seem to understand Peace Corp's mission. I am glad to be a part of this community.
After the speeches, everyone ushered me to the car to unload my things. They all helped carry everything to my room. Then the music started. They banged bowls and containers and were dancing. They pulled me in to dance. I can't dance well, but I did anyway. Some of the women danced to show off to me too. Gradually, people left the compound to go home and prepare dinner. I was left with my wonderful family, and an eagerness to be engaged in the community.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Duma estagere, Wolunteer laa!
As of yesterday, I am officially a Peace Corps Volunteer! Duma estagere, wolunteer laa! (I am not a trainee, I am a volunteer!) We left Thies early in the morning to drive to the US Embassy in Dakar. In the embassy, amidst speeches from Peace Corps staff, the US Ambassador, and one representative for each language from our training class, we were all promoted to full volunteers. So our service has officially begun. Following the ceremony, there was a small banquet full of American food treasures; we all devoured the pizza, beef kebobs, fritatas, cookies, cream puffs, and fruit tarts that were brought around for us to eat. (We all crave cheese and dairy products here; yes, already.)
And tomorrow I leave for Kaolack! Good bye training center!
My training class
Me with my language teacher Aissatu
And tomorrow I leave for Kaolack! Good bye training center!
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Jox ma xaalis yi
One of the major issues in Senegal revolves around talibe. The word "talibe" literally means "student" and this word is used to describe the 150,000-200,000 children in Senegal sent from Senegal, the Gambia, Mauritania, Guinea, and Guinea-Bissau to study Koran under the tutorage of a maribout. Generally, the come from small villages to live in cities. They are supposed to be learning the Koran and about Islam and also about being humble. Thus, they are sent to the streets to beg for food and money, so that they can learn to appreciate simplicity and not needing much. Often in the streets, I am approached by young boys asking for money "Jox ma xaalis yi" ("Give me money") or by boys tapping my shoulder and holding out their bright yellow bowl. Unfortunately, a lot of maribout are corrupt and don't teach the children; instead, they just use them to earn money, and the children don't eat much and aren't treated well. Not much is currently being done to help the talibe, and Senegal is one of the worst countries in terms of human trafficking as a result. I sat down with another trainee to interview one of our LCFs (language and cultural facilitators) about his experience as a talibe when he was a child.
At the time, he was upset that his parents were making him be a talibe, but in retrospect, he is very glad for the experience and even wants his children to be talibe. He says it taught him to be friendly/social/outgoing, to not need much to be comfortable, and to get along well with others. He is fortunate for what he has, but is ok sleeping on the ground or not showering everyday. S. was 4 when he was first sent to be a talibe under his uncle. His uncle was a well-known maribout with disciples coming from all over Senegal and neighboring countries to study with him in Thies. (S.'s family lives in Thies, so he was luckily able to see his family, was familiar with the city, and knew the language; a lot of children do not have these "luxuries.") Also, his uncle had sponshorship from abroad, so he didn't depend upon the money that the children got on the streets. (Most children have to bring back a certain amount of money everyday, or else risk being beaten.) Nevertheless, he (like the other talibe) had to beg for food and money for meals. Every talibe was assigned a group and an older talibe to supervise them. They begged together and then shared the food they received; they received a mix of bread, vegetables, uncooked rice, meal left-overs, etc. At first, S. went to his family's house to collect this food, but then they told him that he had to go out and beg like the rest of the boys.
S. had a good talibe, so he was studying as well. (Many talibe do not actually receive the Islamic tutelage they are promised.) He would wake up, pray, beg for breakfast, study, beg for lunch, study, beg for dinner, and go to bed. At first, he had to memorize the Koran (in Arabic). He'd be given lines to memorize and recite (all within his group). He still remembers a lot of this today and thinks that this early memorization training helped him learn fast in school (because he was accustomed to memorizing). After he memorized the Koran, he began to learn the book of laws. He stopped being a talibe before he could complete this. (He was only a talibe from ages 7-11; some boys are talibes between ages 4-16.) The next step would've been to interpret the Koran. S. was also lucky because his uncle was kind. However, his uncle also traveled a lot and was sometimes away for months at a time. Then the older talibe were in charge, and they didn't always treat the younger ones well. One time, S.'s cousin was beaten badly for not correctly reciting a verse. S. went home and told his father, thinking that his father would be equally enraged; he wasn't and said that his cousin should've studied better. S. is very fortunate that this beating only occurred when his uncle was gone; many other talibe are not as lucky.
After being a full talibe for a few years, S.'s older sisters asked their father to allow him to attend public school. They and his mother thought that he needed to learn other subjects, but his father wanted him to learn about Islam. After some debate and more beggging on his sisters' part, his father acquiesced. S. began to attend the public Koranic school (dara). (In Senegal, there are public French and Arabic schools.) However, on weekends and during holidays, he continued to be a talibe. Sometimes he would even study Koran with his talibe group before school. During school times, he lived at home and commuted to his uncle for the weekends, studying with the other children who commuted. During vacations though, he lived with his uncle again. Sometimes his classmates would be confused about his identity and would ask him if he was a student of a talibe (since they would see him begging). Eventually, he stopped being a talibe and just went to school. His younger brother was also a talibe, but he only commuted to his uncle and attended public school.
As I wrote above, S. is very grateful for the experience and learned a lot from it. At the time, he did have a hard time understanding why his parents were putting him through this and was upset, but now he is glad for it. (He is also glad that his sisters convinced his father to send him to public school because there is a lot to be gained from that system too.) He plans to send his children to be talibe too, but he will have them commute and will ensure they have a good maribout.
S.'s story is one of the few positive talibe stories; most children are not as fortunate and do not have good maribout. They arrive in the city, unused to the bustle of urban life, not knowing the language, having no friends and family, forced to live in a small room packed next to other children, generally are malnourished, often beaten, wear raggedy/old/large clothes with no shoes, and do not receive the Koranic training promised to them. These children sometimes try to escape, though often they are brought back to their maribout. Even if they did escape, their choices are few; they can try to find their way home to their village, but even if they make it, they do not have the skills to be successful in a rural area (nor are they prepared for rural life after living in an urban area for so long). Thus, they find themselves in limbo, uncomfortable in villages and the city, without the skills to find a job in either place, and not much better off than before. This is a serious problem that Senegal must deal with.
S. admits that there are many problems with this current talibe system. He says that many maribout are corrupt, demand unreasonable amounts of money from their talibe, and beat them. Often they don't even teach the children, and the boys just beg all day. Also, with so many people begging on the streets (not all the children are talibe, some are just beggars), it is difficult for people to identify the talibe to support them (for the few who do give money or food to the talibe). S. thus supports a program that his neighborhood takes part in, entitled "1 talibe, 1 home." Through this program, families such as his support talibe. They have the same talibe come every day and give him (or them) food for meals. This way, the children are still learning to be humble, but are receiving adequate nutrition. Programs such as this are very important. The talibe system is so ingrained in culture and religion that it would be near impossible to overhaul it, and this would be the wrong strategy. Instead, the merits of the system should be promoted and work should be done to make the system more just and endurable for the children. This is the approach that should be taken (according to S.). And I agree - the system does have its merits (learning the Koran, learning to be humble), but I am still appalled at how corrupt it has become.
At the time, he was upset that his parents were making him be a talibe, but in retrospect, he is very glad for the experience and even wants his children to be talibe. He says it taught him to be friendly/social/outgoing, to not need much to be comfortable, and to get along well with others. He is fortunate for what he has, but is ok sleeping on the ground or not showering everyday. S. was 4 when he was first sent to be a talibe under his uncle. His uncle was a well-known maribout with disciples coming from all over Senegal and neighboring countries to study with him in Thies. (S.'s family lives in Thies, so he was luckily able to see his family, was familiar with the city, and knew the language; a lot of children do not have these "luxuries.") Also, his uncle had sponshorship from abroad, so he didn't depend upon the money that the children got on the streets. (Most children have to bring back a certain amount of money everyday, or else risk being beaten.) Nevertheless, he (like the other talibe) had to beg for food and money for meals. Every talibe was assigned a group and an older talibe to supervise them. They begged together and then shared the food they received; they received a mix of bread, vegetables, uncooked rice, meal left-overs, etc. At first, S. went to his family's house to collect this food, but then they told him that he had to go out and beg like the rest of the boys.
S. had a good talibe, so he was studying as well. (Many talibe do not actually receive the Islamic tutelage they are promised.) He would wake up, pray, beg for breakfast, study, beg for lunch, study, beg for dinner, and go to bed. At first, he had to memorize the Koran (in Arabic). He'd be given lines to memorize and recite (all within his group). He still remembers a lot of this today and thinks that this early memorization training helped him learn fast in school (because he was accustomed to memorizing). After he memorized the Koran, he began to learn the book of laws. He stopped being a talibe before he could complete this. (He was only a talibe from ages 7-11; some boys are talibes between ages 4-16.) The next step would've been to interpret the Koran. S. was also lucky because his uncle was kind. However, his uncle also traveled a lot and was sometimes away for months at a time. Then the older talibe were in charge, and they didn't always treat the younger ones well. One time, S.'s cousin was beaten badly for not correctly reciting a verse. S. went home and told his father, thinking that his father would be equally enraged; he wasn't and said that his cousin should've studied better. S. is very fortunate that this beating only occurred when his uncle was gone; many other talibe are not as lucky.
After being a full talibe for a few years, S.'s older sisters asked their father to allow him to attend public school. They and his mother thought that he needed to learn other subjects, but his father wanted him to learn about Islam. After some debate and more beggging on his sisters' part, his father acquiesced. S. began to attend the public Koranic school (dara). (In Senegal, there are public French and Arabic schools.) However, on weekends and during holidays, he continued to be a talibe. Sometimes he would even study Koran with his talibe group before school. During school times, he lived at home and commuted to his uncle for the weekends, studying with the other children who commuted. During vacations though, he lived with his uncle again. Sometimes his classmates would be confused about his identity and would ask him if he was a student of a talibe (since they would see him begging). Eventually, he stopped being a talibe and just went to school. His younger brother was also a talibe, but he only commuted to his uncle and attended public school.
As I wrote above, S. is very grateful for the experience and learned a lot from it. At the time, he did have a hard time understanding why his parents were putting him through this and was upset, but now he is glad for it. (He is also glad that his sisters convinced his father to send him to public school because there is a lot to be gained from that system too.) He plans to send his children to be talibe too, but he will have them commute and will ensure they have a good maribout.
S.'s story is one of the few positive talibe stories; most children are not as fortunate and do not have good maribout. They arrive in the city, unused to the bustle of urban life, not knowing the language, having no friends and family, forced to live in a small room packed next to other children, generally are malnourished, often beaten, wear raggedy/old/large clothes with no shoes, and do not receive the Koranic training promised to them. These children sometimes try to escape, though often they are brought back to their maribout. Even if they did escape, their choices are few; they can try to find their way home to their village, but even if they make it, they do not have the skills to be successful in a rural area (nor are they prepared for rural life after living in an urban area for so long). Thus, they find themselves in limbo, uncomfortable in villages and the city, without the skills to find a job in either place, and not much better off than before. This is a serious problem that Senegal must deal with.
S. admits that there are many problems with this current talibe system. He says that many maribout are corrupt, demand unreasonable amounts of money from their talibe, and beat them. Often they don't even teach the children, and the boys just beg all day. Also, with so many people begging on the streets (not all the children are talibe, some are just beggars), it is difficult for people to identify the talibe to support them (for the few who do give money or food to the talibe). S. thus supports a program that his neighborhood takes part in, entitled "1 talibe, 1 home." Through this program, families such as his support talibe. They have the same talibe come every day and give him (or them) food for meals. This way, the children are still learning to be humble, but are receiving adequate nutrition. Programs such as this are very important. The talibe system is so ingrained in culture and religion that it would be near impossible to overhaul it, and this would be the wrong strategy. Instead, the merits of the system should be promoted and work should be done to make the system more just and endurable for the children. This is the approach that should be taken (according to S.). And I agree - the system does have its merits (learning the Koran, learning to be humble), but I am still appalled at how corrupt it has become.
Dinaa la namm
I just came back from my final day in Mboro. We spent the final day traveling around the town, thanking everyone and saying our goodbyes. We made two important stops - one at the healthpost and one at the school. As usual, nothing works as planned at the healthpost, and none of the healthworkers were in, so we sent our farewells with others. At the school, we gave special thanks to the students because the garden looks amazing. I can't believe how much is growing; it's nice to see that plants can grow in the sandy soil and also that the students are taking such good care of the garden. It's also amazing to see how comfortable I've gotten in Mboro. I can navigate through all the streets and greet people on my way.
It was sad to say goodbye to my family, but hopefully I'll be able to stop back in Mboro to see them again. Dinaa la namm. (I will miss you.)
My family in Mboro in our compound
Our garden at the school
The market in Mboro
And now I am back in the training center for my final week of training. Tomorrow, I have my final language exam, then Thursday my host mother from Mboro will come to Thies for a final farewell party, on Friday I officially become a Peace Corps volunteer, on Sunday I move all my stuff to Kaolack, and on Wednesday I move into my new home!
It was sad to say goodbye to my family, but hopefully I'll be able to stop back in Mboro to see them again. Dinaa la namm. (I will miss you.)
And now I am back in the training center for my final week of training. Tomorrow, I have my final language exam, then Thursday my host mother from Mboro will come to Thies for a final farewell party, on Friday I officially become a Peace Corps volunteer, on Sunday I move all my stuff to Kaolack, and on Wednesday I move into my new home!
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Dinga ma jangale tacchee ci vilaas bi
On Sunday afternoon, I sat at a table welcoming counterparts (one who is a member of the community we will live in who is well respected and another who works at either the health post or school in the community) to the training center. 2 counterparts for every trainee was coming from their village in order to learn more about the Peace Corps and to develop some general action plans for the first few months. Some traveled for over 12 hours to make it. As each person walked into the compound, they approached the table and greeted everyone. They didn't just shake hands with the people sitting at the table, but also everyone in the general vicinity; Peace Corps volunteer, staff member, or other counterpart, all received a greeting as per Senegalese customs. Of course, I greeted everyone back as best I could, as some spoke Pular, Mandinka, Jaxanke, or Serer rather than Wolof or French. There was one time I was concentrating on something on my lap and didn't look up when the counterpart came over to greet me. He had to snap his fingers in my face to get my attention. As luck would have it, that person was one of my counterparts; what a great introduction.
Monday and Tuesday were spent in sessions all day where Peace Corps staff presented information to the counterparts. It was very good to have this workshop so that I was able to get to know my counterparts as bit better and so that they would better understand what we are capable of accomplishing in the village. It also gave them the opportunity to ask some questions they have about Peace Corps and to formulate a better idea of how we can best serve their communities. I have selected a few highlights of these two days to share here.
First, I want to address some interesting cultural differences that I noticed. (Just a disclaimer, these are all very broad generalizations of the counterparts and Americans-they do not apply to everyone.) To begin, they don't spend free time in their rooms. Instead, they all sit out on the porch stoop in front of their rooms (4 counterparts per room; only the bottom beds of the bunkbeds were used for them) or on the mats we set out on the ground for them. Even though they didn't know each other beforehand, they have all begun to talk and make tea together. This is very different from Americans who would just go to their rooms during free time or require food/coffee to bond over. Additionally, as I said before, when they arrived at the center, they would walk up to everyone sitting in the area to greet them. Compare this to Americans arriving for a workshop who would just go directly to the table to "register." Moreover, they are unused to the commodities that we have here. I walked into the bathroom on the first night to find a woman walking back and forth between the showers and toilets, peering into both. I walked into the toilet stall and then came out to wash my hands. She saw me do that and then went to use the toilet. They aren't used to flush toilets (or showerheads). Also, men and women used the same bathrooms until it was announced that there were gender-specific bathrooms. They must feel out of place here for a lot of reasons, especially those from smaller, more remote villages. Finally, we began the first session with a prayer led by one of the counterparts.
As one of the sessions, a trainee taught a group of counterparts another language to demonstrate how hard it is to learn a language. In my session, someone taught Spanish. Four counterparts were chosen to be in this "class," and she purposely taught fast to demonstrate the difficulties. Both of my counterparts volunteered to be in this "class." Even though one of my counterparts knew some Spanish from school, he still found it difficult because she was teaching Venezuelan Spanish which is a bit different. So both he and the others were constantly being corrected for their pronunciation as they essentially read off of the board she was writing on. However, my community member counterpart is illiterate and shy, so she had a very difficult time. Unlike the others, she had to rely solely on hearing the language which was being spoken extremely fast, and she struggled a bit with this. All in all, it was a good lesson to them to show why we aren't fluent Wolof speakers after 2 months of training.
Morning session yesterday began in a hilarious fashion. We were just sitting in the room waiting for everyone to arrive when one woman stood up and walked to the center of the room. She then proceeded to tell a story/joke. This began a trend of several other counterparts doing the same, standing up to tell a joke, all of which the room found to be very funny. My language teacher translated three of them for us. (The punch lines of the other two would apparently be lost in translation). I will tell them here to give you a sense of Senegalese humor. 1: A man goes to the pharmacy because he is constipated and asks for some medication. The pharmacists gives him some pills, but tells him to wait until he gets home to take them. The man walks out of the store and thinks, "This man must be crazy. Why do I have to wait to take these pills?" So he takes them right there. Immediately, the pills begin to be effective and he finds himself with diarrhea for the entire walk home. On the way, he passes a man who asks him how to get to the pharmacy. The man replies, "Just follow my 'trail', and you will be led directly to it." 2: There was a man who loves soccer. One day, there was a soccer game that the man wanted to attend, but all of his pants were dirty. So he decides to just wear his booboo. (This is a piece of traditional Senegalese clothing that both men and women wear. It's essentially a shirt that goes down to your knees, but you always wear pants with them.) He arrived at the stadium and went to sit down. As Senegalese men always do when sitting, he lifts the back of his shirt up so that he won't dirty it by sitting on it. All of a sudden, everyone around him stands up and starts yelling. "Did we score?" he asks. Someone responds, "Our team didn't, but you just did." He had mooned everyone around him. 3: This story relates to a Senegalese belief that if you say someone's name while they are burying someone, that person will soon be buried (will die soon). A group of men were burying a man. Nearby, a group of children were playing soccer. At one point, the b all went over the cemetery wall, and a boy called over the wall, "Mamadou Jaay, can you throw the ball back over?" The man replied, "Bamba, your father, brothers, uncles, and cousins are all here. Why couldn't you have asked one of them to throw it over for you?"
And finally, last night, after having a soccer game of trainees vs. Peace Corps staff members (we lost unfortunately), we returned to the training center for an impromptu dance party. Someone played the drums, while we all attempted to dance Senegalese. My counterpart saw us all trying to dance and came over to dance in the center of the circle. I was very happy that even though she was so shy, she had come to dance. (Senegalese love to dance.) She tried to get me to dance, but I don't know how to do it yet. Afterward, I made clear to her: Dinga ma jangale tacchee ci vilaas bi. (You will teach me to teach in the village.)
Monday and Tuesday were spent in sessions all day where Peace Corps staff presented information to the counterparts. It was very good to have this workshop so that I was able to get to know my counterparts as bit better and so that they would better understand what we are capable of accomplishing in the village. It also gave them the opportunity to ask some questions they have about Peace Corps and to formulate a better idea of how we can best serve their communities. I have selected a few highlights of these two days to share here.
First, I want to address some interesting cultural differences that I noticed. (Just a disclaimer, these are all very broad generalizations of the counterparts and Americans-they do not apply to everyone.) To begin, they don't spend free time in their rooms. Instead, they all sit out on the porch stoop in front of their rooms (4 counterparts per room; only the bottom beds of the bunkbeds were used for them) or on the mats we set out on the ground for them. Even though they didn't know each other beforehand, they have all begun to talk and make tea together. This is very different from Americans who would just go to their rooms during free time or require food/coffee to bond over. Additionally, as I said before, when they arrived at the center, they would walk up to everyone sitting in the area to greet them. Compare this to Americans arriving for a workshop who would just go directly to the table to "register." Moreover, they are unused to the commodities that we have here. I walked into the bathroom on the first night to find a woman walking back and forth between the showers and toilets, peering into both. I walked into the toilet stall and then came out to wash my hands. She saw me do that and then went to use the toilet. They aren't used to flush toilets (or showerheads). Also, men and women used the same bathrooms until it was announced that there were gender-specific bathrooms. They must feel out of place here for a lot of reasons, especially those from smaller, more remote villages. Finally, we began the first session with a prayer led by one of the counterparts.
As one of the sessions, a trainee taught a group of counterparts another language to demonstrate how hard it is to learn a language. In my session, someone taught Spanish. Four counterparts were chosen to be in this "class," and she purposely taught fast to demonstrate the difficulties. Both of my counterparts volunteered to be in this "class." Even though one of my counterparts knew some Spanish from school, he still found it difficult because she was teaching Venezuelan Spanish which is a bit different. So both he and the others were constantly being corrected for their pronunciation as they essentially read off of the board she was writing on. However, my community member counterpart is illiterate and shy, so she had a very difficult time. Unlike the others, she had to rely solely on hearing the language which was being spoken extremely fast, and she struggled a bit with this. All in all, it was a good lesson to them to show why we aren't fluent Wolof speakers after 2 months of training.
Morning session yesterday began in a hilarious fashion. We were just sitting in the room waiting for everyone to arrive when one woman stood up and walked to the center of the room. She then proceeded to tell a story/joke. This began a trend of several other counterparts doing the same, standing up to tell a joke, all of which the room found to be very funny. My language teacher translated three of them for us. (The punch lines of the other two would apparently be lost in translation). I will tell them here to give you a sense of Senegalese humor. 1: A man goes to the pharmacy because he is constipated and asks for some medication. The pharmacists gives him some pills, but tells him to wait until he gets home to take them. The man walks out of the store and thinks, "This man must be crazy. Why do I have to wait to take these pills?" So he takes them right there. Immediately, the pills begin to be effective and he finds himself with diarrhea for the entire walk home. On the way, he passes a man who asks him how to get to the pharmacy. The man replies, "Just follow my 'trail', and you will be led directly to it." 2: There was a man who loves soccer. One day, there was a soccer game that the man wanted to attend, but all of his pants were dirty. So he decides to just wear his booboo. (This is a piece of traditional Senegalese clothing that both men and women wear. It's essentially a shirt that goes down to your knees, but you always wear pants with them.) He arrived at the stadium and went to sit down. As Senegalese men always do when sitting, he lifts the back of his shirt up so that he won't dirty it by sitting on it. All of a sudden, everyone around him stands up and starts yelling. "Did we score?" he asks. Someone responds, "Our team didn't, but you just did." He had mooned everyone around him. 3: This story relates to a Senegalese belief that if you say someone's name while they are burying someone, that person will soon be buried (will die soon). A group of men were burying a man. Nearby, a group of children were playing soccer. At one point, the b all went over the cemetery wall, and a boy called over the wall, "Mamadou Jaay, can you throw the ball back over?" The man replied, "Bamba, your father, brothers, uncles, and cousins are all here. Why couldn't you have asked one of them to throw it over for you?"
And finally, last night, after having a soccer game of trainees vs. Peace Corps staff members (we lost unfortunately), we returned to the training center for an impromptu dance party. Someone played the drums, while we all attempted to dance Senegalese. My counterpart saw us all trying to dance and came over to dance in the center of the circle. I was very happy that even though she was so shy, she had come to dance. (Senegalese love to dance.) She tried to get me to dance, but I don't know how to do it yet. Afterward, I made clear to her: Dinga ma jangale tacchee ci vilaas bi. (You will teach me to teach in the village.)
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