Colonie, dafa neex!

I recently returned from a weeklong girls’ camp for 40 middle-school girls.  This was an amazing opportunity for talented, motivated girls from across the Kaolack, Fatick, and Kaffrine regions to meet others with a similar passion for learning, a rare sight within most of their villages.  It also allowed them time to have fun and relax, another rare event within their communities.  Most of these girls return home from school to cook, clean, care for children, work in the fields, and perform other duties while still finding some time to study for their classes.  These girls are incredibly dedicated to school with goals to earn a university education; become doctors, journalists, NGO workers, and much more; and refrain from marriage until completing a degree.

Every day of the camp (which was run by Peace Corps volunteers with the help of several Senegalese women mentors) had a different theme: identity, health, environment, gender, and careers.  These themes allowed the girls to explore and learn about topics in a fun, interactive environment.  They were able to develop an idea of themselves and how they fit into their communities.  Additionally, we began each day with leadership activities, which my friend and I led; these were fun, team-building games that I’d learned from Outdoor Ed and Nature’s Classroom, and the girls had a blast untangling themselves from the human knot, passing a bucket of water around with their feet, and hugging trees blindfolded which they later had to identify.

On health day, they learned about family planning and female hygiene.  Imagine a group of 15-year-olds receiving their first sex ed and birds-and-the-bees conversation.  I learned many of these details beginning in 5^th grade from parents, friends, and school, but these topics are taboo here.  No one explains to them their bodily changes when they hit puberty or where babies come from.  Everything teenagers know is from rumors, and they never find out the truth about their bodies.  It is often not until their wedding night that most girls learn what sex is, and even then it is often performed in the dark and forced upon them by their husbands.  I have had women with several children come ask me to explain male anatomy because their husbands direct all activities in the middle-of-the-night while they lie completely still.  Thus, the fact that we provided these girls with information regarding sexual health and puberty was completely radical in this country.  Their mouths were literally dropping with surprise as we explained female anatomy, they tried not to giggle as we explained safe sex practices, and their eyes shut with horror as we showed pictures of STI symptoms.  We were trying to prepare them for their futures, to explain their options, make them aware of normal behavior, and empower them to make smart decisions with men.  We ended the day with a skit portraying an ambitious, intelligent teenager pursued by a male classmate who offered the girl money.  The girl was tempted to bring money home to her mom who works really hard, though she didn’t want to drop out of school.  (Relationships often lead to marriage that inevitably leads to pregnancy soon afterward.)  The girls were asked what they would do if placed in that position.  Immediately, a girl shot up her hand to announce that she’d continue studying and tell the boy that he should do the same and not pressure her for sex; if he really loved her as he said, he’d value her education.  The other girls screamed and clapped with approval.

On environment day, we rented two boats took them on a trip to an island.  This was all but one of their first time on a boat.  (The one girl lives on an island; coming to the camp was her first time in a car.)  They loved the ride, the beauty of the mangos, and the opportunity to shout taunting shouts to the other boat.  The girls were so creative with their chants, creating songs about the camp, their new friends, and their activities.  One particular catchy song declared, “Colonie dafa neex!”  (Camp is fun!)  The boat ride went really well, until the way back when, in the pouring rain, one of the engines cut out.  My boat, far ahead of the other boat, turned to see the driver of the other boat standing up, waving his shirt in the air for us to come help him.  We ended up towing his boat back to camp; the one-hour trip doubled in time, but the girls were content to be smashed in the boat joking with each other.

On gender day, we taught them that women can have power.  They should stand up for themselves and not let their gender limit them in any way.  We brought in Senegalese men to speak about healthy relationships and sharing domestic responsibilities.  The girls were amazed that these options exist.  They had never considered that men could help take care of their children or that they had the right to refuse being beaten by their husbands.  The Senegalese men taught them strategies to resist relationships that gave the men all the power, and the girls took notes as they explained how they treat their partners.  We Peace Corps volunteers couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the tough line these girls would rightfully expect of their boyfriends and husbands.

On career day, we encouraged them to pursue their field of interest and to plan out how to achieve this.  We explained the importance of planning for the future.  Mostly, we wanted them to see that there are many girls in Senegal with similar hopes for studies and careers; they should resist their communities’ pressures to marry early, work, and drop out of school.  The whole week had served to empower them to stand up for their rights, and this was the closure; they have the ability to achieve whatever they put their minds to.  This final night, we held a talent show.  It was the chance for the girls to show off their gymnastics, dancing, singing, and public speech.  At the end, “invisible friends” were revealed.  On Monday, each girl had been assigned another girl to compliment and treat with respect without betraying their identity.  Now, on Friday, one girl was called forward.  One of the Senegalese mentors began a song about searching for her invisible friend.  While she sang, the invisible friend jumped up, dancing over to the girl, and they danced around hugging each other a bit, before the first girl sat down, and the remaining girl waited for her invisible friend to appear.  It was so nice to see how close these girls had become over the week.  Watching the girls embrace and dance with their new friends who shared so much in common with them was beautiful.

But all wonderful things must come to an end.  On Saturday, the girls all piled on busses the campement for home.  The girls were literally bawling and had been in such a state since the previous night.  They had felt so accepted here among other motivated, intelligent girls.  One girl explained that she was nervous to go home where all her peers and even adults taunted her for studying.  We drove the girls to Kaolack, and then we all separated to return to our separate villages.  I waited in public transport with the two girls I had brought.  Several young men came up to them and said they loved them, a normal occurrence here.  But, unlike on the way here when they’d simply ignored the comments, my two girls turned to them and said that they’d just come back from a vacation to learn and studying was their sole interest now.  They then asked the young men why they weren’t in school and went so far as to scold them for dropping out early and pursuing their education.  I sat next to them with a huge grin on my face.  The camp’s mission had been accomplished.

Naan bi jot na

It’s the last few days of Ramadan, an important holiday in this Muslim country.  Nearly all adults, most teenagers, and some children fast for the 29 or 30 days of this holiday.  I, for one, am eager for the month to be over.  I’m looking forward to Korite, which occurs the day after Ramadan ends, and I’m looking forward to the end of the fast.

It began nearly 4 weeks ago.  Senegal does not have a schedule for its holidays; instead, people judge the commencement date by examining the moon.  When the first glimpse of the moon is seen, then the holiday begins.  Thus, the month begins 1-3 days after the official date written on my calendar.  Children are usually the heralds of the holiday, carefully searching the sky and bringing the message home to their families and village when they view the moon.  Once it’s been seen, everyone eats a hearty dinner and prepares themselves for the fast ahead.  They’ll wake again at 5 am with the call to prayer to eat their morning meal before beginning to fast.

Life continues as normal despite the fast.  It’s particularly difficult when Ramadan falls at this time of year: not only is it hot and humid, but it’s also planting and weeding time and families must go out to the field every day.  Additionally, since they haven’t reaped the benefits from the harvest yet, money is particularly tight, and it is difficult for Senegalese to afford the large meals required of break fast.  Nevertheless, despite these hardships, people can be seen working hard in their fields.  They arrive early and often stay in the fields until late in the afternoon, skipping the customary mid-day break (usually lasting from 1-5) since there is no lunch.  Men and boys lead manual tractors pulled by donkeys, horses, or yoked cows.  Women and girls follow behind the animal, weeding around the crops with hoes.  It’s exhausting work, but they don’t complain.  They know that carefully caring for their peanuts, millet, beans, and corn now will pay off later.

By late afternoon, they’re exhausted.  They return home, and the entire village is quiet as everyone takes an afternoon nap.  Even with nourishment and drink, the work would be difficult; the fast and weather only exacerbate this.  They all lay and watch the sun, waiting for it to dip below the horizon.

Then, at 7:45, the imam’s voice can be heard ringing from the center of the village.  My host brother comes to call me: Naan bi jot na! (Drinking time has come!)  My family gathers in the backyard to eat a date, drink coffee (made from leaves of a local plant), and eat bread.  I use this time to down 2 or 3 liters of water, replacing my fluids for the day.  As soon as I’ve consumed this water, I can feel sweat starting to drip down my body, normal for this heat but absent during my dehydration.  I feel much better now.  Suddenly, voices can be heard ringing out, children playing, and laughter resounding; the village has come back to life.  I break fast with my host parents and siblings, but after finishing my meal there, I am promptly called over to my host grandma’s hut where I am given another cup of coffee and another loaf of bread.

An hour later, it’s time for dinner.  Dinner during Ramadan consists of the nicer food eaten generally for lunch only.  Once again, I eat one meal with my host family and then another with my host grandma.  When I go to bed soon afterward, I am stuffed with food, liquid, and contentment from the antics of my host siblings.  Ironically, I find myself more full during Ramadan than during the rest of the year.  I’ve consumed so much food that I’m not hungry until the following evening; it’s just the water I miss.