I have now been at site for 4 1/2 months. It's amazing to me how fast that has gone. My Wolof is slowly improving, and I'm beginning to receive some compliments, which is very exciting. So what exactly have I been doing with my time?
Though I arrived as an environmental education volunteer, Senegal Peace Corps has now merged that with the health program. Therefore, I have been spending much time in the nearby town (3 km away) shadowing at the health post and maternity clinic. The Senegalese health structure has several layers: at the very bottom are health huts were ASCs and matronnes work. These are unpaid workers who have undergone a 3-month training at the health post to learn the basic skills of healing and delivering babies. Their medical supplies and skills are limited. Above this level is the health post were the ICP and sage femme work. They have both gone to college, the former to learn the trade of a physician, the latter of pre-, peri-, and post-natal acre. They can handle most illnesses, but if the problem requires unusual medication or is extreme, patients are sent to regional hospitals located in cities. So I my village is very lucky to be located so close to a health post, and the ICP and sage femme (literally meaning wise woman-it's french) are very extraordinary people, and I have learned a lot about my area's needs by talking with them. Additionally, I have helped local NGOs and the health post as they visit villages to provide vaccines for children under 5, administer AIDS testing, measure the width of children under 5's upper arm (a measure of malnutrition), and conduct health talks with villages. I have even held a health talk of my own to a group of pregnant woman at the maternity clinic on the topic of malaria and will be conducting another talk about proper nutrition for pregnant women this coming Monday.
When I am not shadowing or helping with local health issues, I am usually in my village. I have recently begun to conduct home visits. Every afternoon, when it is no longer peak heat (after 4 pm), I go to a different compound in my village to talk, drink tea, and sometimes play parchesi. (I don't know why parchesi is so popular here, but they all love it, and my village has several boards that are constantly being passed from one family to another.) I have recently learned that the act of drinking tea is vital to a visit; when I arrived around 5:30 to talk at one compound, I was told that it was too late for tea (the necessary 3 pots of tea could not be made before it was time to fetch water around 6:30/7) and that therefore my visit was no good. But, other than my arriving too late, my home visits are a complete success. Everyone loves having me as a guest at their house. I am immediately given the nicest chair (or bench or stool) to sit on, and everyone gathers around me. I feel like a celebrity from this constant attention. I am also constantly asked why I have not yet been to certain people's houses (my response-I can only visit 1 house a day, but I will make it there soon) and when I will be returning to those I've already visited (my response-I need to visit everyone once first). I have already felt the positive benefits of these visits as I feel myself growing closer to people in my village, joking with them more, gaining more of their respect, discussing my role as a volunteer, and even learning about some pregnancies so that I can escort those women to the maternity clinic. I look forward to the remaining home visits that I have. It is fun to talk and get to know other people. The relationships I form as a result will be wonderful both socially and for accomplishing health behavior changes that I hope to instill (ex-handwashing).
Additionally, I have had the opportunity to visit some neighboring villages. One village in particular sticks out in my mind. It is about 7 km away and known for its beautiful mango and cashew tree field right outside the village. The people there are very nice, have an active women's group, and want to work with me on health projects. Additionally, they have a beautiful baobob forest, which I had the pleasure of biking through on my way home. I hope to work with this village and some others on some of my work projects.
Then, besides these activities, I've been visiting the weekly market, bike riding, helping to harvest peanuts, hanging out with my family, and doing lots of thinking. But I have learned that there is never a dull moment here.
And, finally...to write about my successes. Mangiy rot sama bopp! (I carry water myself!) I can now carry a bucket of water on my head, which is a very exciting development. I now no longer have to rely on someone else to bring me water everyday. Also, I have successfully pulled water from the well when the water from the tap was shut off. The well in my village is 45 meters deep, so pulling water is a 2-person job, but I succeeded. Small steps, but important to me.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Monday, September 10, 2012
Jembet nanu
August 10 was an amazing day; it was the tree planting day. I opened my door at 8 to be ready whenever we were going to start. At 8:15, my dad came rushing to my door to get me to start. It was very overcast, and he was afraid that it would rain. (It ended up drizzling for five minutes and maintaining a wonderful, cool, perfect work temeperature with a nice breeze the entire day.) We hurried over to the field. At first, only five men were there, and I was a bit nervous. But more came until there were maybe 25 or 30 men. No women were there, and I was a bit disappointed but figured the men would do a good job. Most got to work chopping down all the bushes in the field with machetes; the field was very overgrown with weeds. I had forgotten how many bushes and plants had spread over the field and was daunted by the prospect of cutting everything down, thinking it would take a long time. Two groups of two or three men got to work starting to dig holes. I walked around with a mesauring tape between the two groups, mesuring the size of the holes and the distance between the holes. I felt like a supervisor just going back and forth and not doing any manual labor, but I felt important as men kept calling me over. It was nice to watch the men work too. They all knew what to do without any instructions from me. Of course, this is Senegal, so a lot of times, the men would just stand around watching or talking, but they worked very hard (even chopping down bushes from the tops of two termite mounds). The men digging the holes also understood the necessity of digging deep holes to loosen the soil for the roots, even though the plants weren't that big yet. One group was very meticulous with the measurements of their holes. They dug the holes with a small blade on a stick or with a machete (which made perfectly square holes).
When the men were about halfway through chopping the weeds down, one woman arrived. Soon, a few more trickled in, and I was so happy. I realized that it was now 9:40, and women usually go to their fields around this time; the men had just gotten an earlier start. Meanwhile, the women must've just been carrying out their usually morning chores of getting water, cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, etc. My mom came at this point and told me that we should start getting the plants from my backyard to bring here. I thought she meant for the two of us to bring all the trees over, but as we walked back, we passed about twenty more women on their way to the field and brought them back with us. Women brought their water buckets over, and I worked with some of the kids to fill the buckets with the trees. All the women insisted on taking their shoes off before entering my room, even though I tried to protest. With the buckets all filled, I wondered how we were going to get them to the field because they were really heavy; I couldn't imagine the women being able to carry these buckets on their heads, but they lifted them up without complaint and headed to the field. As I followed behind, I laughed at the sight of 20 or so women walking with buckets of trees on their heads. A man from another village passed us, and I wonder what he thought of this procession.
I showed the women how to plant the trees, and after a few demonstrations to different groups, they set about transplanting all the trees. Jembet nanu! (We transplanted!) I walked around, watching the women eagerly planting them; they were all so excited. A few would ask me how their tree looked in the ground. I would comment on how deep they had planted it or the amount of soil on top, and they would then pass this information along to others. One woman in particular asked me every time I passed; hers were always perfect. As I watched the men chopping or digging and women planting, I thought it was a perfect day, and I couldn't be happier. My village was working so hard. Soon, there were around 50 women there. There wasn't work for everyone, but they were all trying to help or standing around talking, joking, and playing. I realized that I had been really serious up to this point, so I started joking with the women too and even dancing with them. Every time I passed someone that I hadn't seen yet, they would call out to me and greet me.
Some of the men started to argue in two separate groups. I walked over to each group to try to understand the cause of the problem, but I couldn't figure it out. I didn't want to interrupt, but I was hoping that someone would see me and explain; no one did. All the work had stopped by this point, but eventually the problem was solved, and work recommenced. But the men soon tired and went to sit under a tree. The work that had been gender-divided before now all fell to the women and few remaining men. The women then commenced digging all the holes. Tons of holes were being dug at once with all the available tools, while other women stood next to the holes armed with a tree ready to be planted. I was so impressed by them. Digging holes were hard work; I struggled to dig one hole before a boy took the hoe from me and finished it. The woman owning the neighboring field also donated some space for more rows of trees, even though she had peanuts planted there; we needed more room for the trees. I was so proud of my village. Around 2, we stopped for the day, and everyone headed home. About 300 eucalyptus trees had been planted.
The following Monday, we returned to the field. Everyone knew what to do and fell into their roles. In about 3 hours, the remaining 70 eucalyptus trees, 25 mango trees, and 50 cashew trees were planted. I surveyed the field with satisfaction. All that now remains is to buy the fencing for the mango and cashew trees to prevent them from being eaten by animals. But so far, all the trees seem to be growing well.
When the men were about halfway through chopping the weeds down, one woman arrived. Soon, a few more trickled in, and I was so happy. I realized that it was now 9:40, and women usually go to their fields around this time; the men had just gotten an earlier start. Meanwhile, the women must've just been carrying out their usually morning chores of getting water, cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, etc. My mom came at this point and told me that we should start getting the plants from my backyard to bring here. I thought she meant for the two of us to bring all the trees over, but as we walked back, we passed about twenty more women on their way to the field and brought them back with us. Women brought their water buckets over, and I worked with some of the kids to fill the buckets with the trees. All the women insisted on taking their shoes off before entering my room, even though I tried to protest. With the buckets all filled, I wondered how we were going to get them to the field because they were really heavy; I couldn't imagine the women being able to carry these buckets on their heads, but they lifted them up without complaint and headed to the field. As I followed behind, I laughed at the sight of 20 or so women walking with buckets of trees on their heads. A man from another village passed us, and I wonder what he thought of this procession.
I showed the women how to plant the trees, and after a few demonstrations to different groups, they set about transplanting all the trees. Jembet nanu! (We transplanted!) I walked around, watching the women eagerly planting them; they were all so excited. A few would ask me how their tree looked in the ground. I would comment on how deep they had planted it or the amount of soil on top, and they would then pass this information along to others. One woman in particular asked me every time I passed; hers were always perfect. As I watched the men chopping or digging and women planting, I thought it was a perfect day, and I couldn't be happier. My village was working so hard. Soon, there were around 50 women there. There wasn't work for everyone, but they were all trying to help or standing around talking, joking, and playing. I realized that I had been really serious up to this point, so I started joking with the women too and even dancing with them. Every time I passed someone that I hadn't seen yet, they would call out to me and greet me.
Some of the men started to argue in two separate groups. I walked over to each group to try to understand the cause of the problem, but I couldn't figure it out. I didn't want to interrupt, but I was hoping that someone would see me and explain; no one did. All the work had stopped by this point, but eventually the problem was solved, and work recommenced. But the men soon tired and went to sit under a tree. The work that had been gender-divided before now all fell to the women and few remaining men. The women then commenced digging all the holes. Tons of holes were being dug at once with all the available tools, while other women stood next to the holes armed with a tree ready to be planted. I was so impressed by them. Digging holes were hard work; I struggled to dig one hole before a boy took the hoe from me and finished it. The woman owning the neighboring field also donated some space for more rows of trees, even though she had peanuts planted there; we needed more room for the trees. I was so proud of my village. Around 2, we stopped for the day, and everyone headed home. About 300 eucalyptus trees had been planted.
The following Monday, we returned to the field. Everyone knew what to do and fell into their roles. In about 3 hours, the remaining 70 eucalyptus trees, 25 mango trees, and 50 cashew trees were planted. I surveyed the field with satisfaction. All that now remains is to buy the fencing for the mango and cashew trees to prevent them from being eaten by animals. But so far, all the trees seem to be growing well.
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