So, Back on Jan 11 there was another holiday here; Tabaski. Tabaski celebrates Abraham nearly sacrificing his son - Ishmael (Judeo-Christian beliefis that it was his other son Isaac). The story goes that at the last second, God stopped Abraham from slaughtering his son and provided aram instead. Yeah, so the tradition here is for each family to slaughter a sheep so there has been an influx of adult, male sheep here in town the past couple weeks. For me, seeing these guys is like 'dead sheep walking,' its a weird feeling, *knowing* that these animals that I'm looking at right now will all be dead and lunch in a few days. So I decided to write a poem, enjoy.
"Something Strange is Happening"
(Written from the point of view of a male sheep, before Tabaski)
Something strange is happening,I don't know if I should be alarmed.
My boss has sent me and all the other males my age to the city.
There are many others like us here, thousands.
We're being herded to crowded marketplaces.
I see some being strapped to the roofs of cars.
I see some being lead, struggling, by a rope around the neck.
I see some being being taken in twos and threes.
I don't see any females or young ones.
I don't see any goats,
I don't see any cows.
Just myself and others like me,
and the people, herding, buying, taking home.
In the market people are preparing for something.
They buy new clothes, they buy lots of food, they buy others like me,and the they buy me.
Now, I am lead by a rope around my neck.
Now, I am put in a rice sack and tied to the top of a car.
I am taken off the car and tied up in a strange yard.
There are lots of smiling faces here.
There are lots of happy sounds in this yard.
It seems no one here needs to sacrifice.
I too am given all the food I can eat, and I eat.
They speak of tomorrow with great anticipation and send strange looks my way.
Something strange is happening, I don't know if I should be alarmed.
**End of Poem**
So as with the other holidays here, everyone gets fancy new clotheswhether they can afford it or not, the women all get new hair (I'm still getting used to the idea of everyone and their mother having giant hair extensions), and an animal is killed and eaten. Even I was sucked in this time, I had henna put on my hands and fingertips and I had my hair braided (it looked pretty silly, you can see photos at www.lespritdebecca.shutterfly.com). Tabaski is also the Muslim new year I guess, so Happy NewYear...again!
Monday, January 23, 2006
Monday, January 16, 2006
The Market
Kaolack is home to the second largest covered market in Africa, the largest is somewhere in Morocco. The market takes up 4-5 full blocks and is full of people selling just about anything – though not much of real quality. There dozens of boutiques that sell mostly small food stuffs like the bouillon cubes that are used in every Senegalese dish, pasta, rice, butter, powdered milk, instant coffee, sugar, etc – all of which can be bought it absolutely any quantity. For example, at a boutique one can buy a carton of cigarettes, or they can buy one cigarette – either way, much cheaper than in the US by the way, one can buy a tub of margarine or they can buy 20 CFA (4 cents) worth of margarine smeared on a piece of paper. Boutiques are also found in residential areas, in towns and in some villages.
In the market fresh food can also be bought. There is a fish market that stinks to high heaven and has scales all over the floor. There are several places were fresh veggies can be bought and there is also a butchery type area that I try to avoid. No matter what the food, there are usually dozens of flies buzzing around each table and crawling over all the food, this doesn’t bother me, I can’t remember if it ever did. There is also a bigger, open room that appears to be devoted to spices. There are several tables set up with rice sacks overflowing with spices that I couldn’t begin to tell you what they are, but all mixed together they certainly smell funky.
The Fukki Jaay section is a bunch of stands selling second hand clothes, mostly from the U.S. and Europe. It is usually quite entertaining to see the Senegalese walking around in these t-shirts that are so out of place, and its also entertaining to look through the piles, I always get a kick out of seeing a shirt that connects back to my life in the states, and the other day I saw a Family Land, Wisconsin Dells shirt and a WIAA Okonomowoc Girls State Basketball tshirt. I keep wondering if some of the clothes my family has donated has ended up here, I did see a pair of Umbro shorts the other day that looked very familiar.
In the clothes department there are also slightly nicer looking shops that sell knockoffs of Puma, Adidas, Nike, Dolce and Gabana, Converse, you name it. They also sell the newer looking of the second hand t-shirts – I had a guy try to sell me the t-shirt off his back the other day, it said “Democrats are sexier. Who ever heard of a fine piece of elephant?” In the end I offered a price lower than they would except because I knew that its just funnier on a young Senegalese man who doesn’t know what it says.
There are also rows and rows of fabric shops and tailors. I have heard that the fabric here is cheaper because it comes in, illegally no doubt, from the Gambia. There are some plain, colored fabrics in just about any color you could want but there are also some great patterns that often incorporate something like cell phones, chickens, the New York Yankees symbol or (like one of my fabrics) umbrellas and parasols. Many of these fabrics have color combinations that I’m sure would be found atrocious by most westerners, but, as I found when I went shopping with my aunt and neighbour for fabric for my Tabaski outfit, Senegalese think is beautiful. I ended up getting a fabric that has orange and a deep burgundy along with turquoise, and I think it has a mosque or something on it. To get a woman’s outfit made, 3 to 4 meters of fabric are needed and together with what the tailor charges the total cost is usually about $20 – 10,000 CFA.
The market has a very narrow aisle of beauty supply stores that sell hair, hair products and shoes, some clothes. The hair is sold in plastic packages, I’m not sure if one package is enough to complete extensions on an entire head and I’m not sure how much they cost, but I do know that it took sessions of several hours per day for 3 days for my aunt to finish this woman’s hair for Tabaski. The hair was black at the top and reddish pink at the bottom, which must have been stylish this year because I saw a lot of it. I may be nuts but I’m thinking of trying out the fake hair. I’m curious, and here everyone does it, I wouldn’t be able to get away with it back home. I’ll be sure to take pictures if I ever do get that crazy.
The rest of the market is made up of random shops that sell jewellery, peanuts, ready made Senegalese clothes, office supplies, cell phones and Senegalese household and kitchen supplies. The paths that lead between the shops are cement slabs, some of which are covering a crude drainage system. Some of this drainage system is uncovered so I find myself looking down much of the time so I don’t step into something unsavoury. This also gives some parts of the market a…distinct odor. There are also public toilettes that I really hope I NEVER have to use.
The market is sort of set in a grid and the walkways are pretty narrow, some of them are very narrow and tend to cause traffic jams on the average day, but leading up to Tabaski it was a while different story. The market was jam packed with people trying to buy stuff for the holiday. I was constantly being shoved and having to shove to get anywhere. It was absolutely nuts in there.
All that being said, I have to say that the market is one of my favorite places in Kaolack, even with the vendors tripling the price for me because I’m white, even with the annoying but necessary haggling, even with the less than pleasant smells, I look forward to learning my way around it and meeting the people that work there. I think it’s because it makes me feel like I am really in Africa when I’m making my way through the maze.
In the market fresh food can also be bought. There is a fish market that stinks to high heaven and has scales all over the floor. There are several places were fresh veggies can be bought and there is also a butchery type area that I try to avoid. No matter what the food, there are usually dozens of flies buzzing around each table and crawling over all the food, this doesn’t bother me, I can’t remember if it ever did. There is also a bigger, open room that appears to be devoted to spices. There are several tables set up with rice sacks overflowing with spices that I couldn’t begin to tell you what they are, but all mixed together they certainly smell funky.
The Fukki Jaay section is a bunch of stands selling second hand clothes, mostly from the U.S. and Europe. It is usually quite entertaining to see the Senegalese walking around in these t-shirts that are so out of place, and its also entertaining to look through the piles, I always get a kick out of seeing a shirt that connects back to my life in the states, and the other day I saw a Family Land, Wisconsin Dells shirt and a WIAA Okonomowoc Girls State Basketball tshirt. I keep wondering if some of the clothes my family has donated has ended up here, I did see a pair of Umbro shorts the other day that looked very familiar.
In the clothes department there are also slightly nicer looking shops that sell knockoffs of Puma, Adidas, Nike, Dolce and Gabana, Converse, you name it. They also sell the newer looking of the second hand t-shirts – I had a guy try to sell me the t-shirt off his back the other day, it said “Democrats are sexier. Who ever heard of a fine piece of elephant?” In the end I offered a price lower than they would except because I knew that its just funnier on a young Senegalese man who doesn’t know what it says.
There are also rows and rows of fabric shops and tailors. I have heard that the fabric here is cheaper because it comes in, illegally no doubt, from the Gambia. There are some plain, colored fabrics in just about any color you could want but there are also some great patterns that often incorporate something like cell phones, chickens, the New York Yankees symbol or (like one of my fabrics) umbrellas and parasols. Many of these fabrics have color combinations that I’m sure would be found atrocious by most westerners, but, as I found when I went shopping with my aunt and neighbour for fabric for my Tabaski outfit, Senegalese think is beautiful. I ended up getting a fabric that has orange and a deep burgundy along with turquoise, and I think it has a mosque or something on it. To get a woman’s outfit made, 3 to 4 meters of fabric are needed and together with what the tailor charges the total cost is usually about $20 – 10,000 CFA.
The market has a very narrow aisle of beauty supply stores that sell hair, hair products and shoes, some clothes. The hair is sold in plastic packages, I’m not sure if one package is enough to complete extensions on an entire head and I’m not sure how much they cost, but I do know that it took sessions of several hours per day for 3 days for my aunt to finish this woman’s hair for Tabaski. The hair was black at the top and reddish pink at the bottom, which must have been stylish this year because I saw a lot of it. I may be nuts but I’m thinking of trying out the fake hair. I’m curious, and here everyone does it, I wouldn’t be able to get away with it back home. I’ll be sure to take pictures if I ever do get that crazy.
The rest of the market is made up of random shops that sell jewellery, peanuts, ready made Senegalese clothes, office supplies, cell phones and Senegalese household and kitchen supplies. The paths that lead between the shops are cement slabs, some of which are covering a crude drainage system. Some of this drainage system is uncovered so I find myself looking down much of the time so I don’t step into something unsavoury. This also gives some parts of the market a…distinct odor. There are also public toilettes that I really hope I NEVER have to use.
The market is sort of set in a grid and the walkways are pretty narrow, some of them are very narrow and tend to cause traffic jams on the average day, but leading up to Tabaski it was a while different story. The market was jam packed with people trying to buy stuff for the holiday. I was constantly being shoved and having to shove to get anywhere. It was absolutely nuts in there.
All that being said, I have to say that the market is one of my favorite places in Kaolack, even with the vendors tripling the price for me because I’m white, even with the annoying but necessary haggling, even with the less than pleasant smells, I look forward to learning my way around it and meeting the people that work there. I think it’s because it makes me feel like I am really in Africa when I’m making my way through the maze.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Senegalese Wrestling
Over the weekend I attended two Senegalese wrestling matches or Lutes in Sokone and then there was a huge televised match on Sunday. Senegalese wrestling involves a lot of music, singing and dancing. In Sokone there was a group of drummers and a group of singers who where passing a microphone back and forth between two women so they could take turns shrieking into it. One thing I’ve noticed is that there are about 2 volume levels here for any sort of music – as loud as the equipment allows and add more equipment. The wrestlers are wearing a sumo sort of outfit with what looks like a speedo training suit under. They dance around to warm up, sometimes jogging, when they are ready there is a sort of patty-cake looking thing that happens and then someone makes a move to either get their opponent onto his back or get both knees and both hands on the ground. The most entertaining part for me was when someone wins, they, followed by all their fans in the crowd, sprint out of the arena while the loser is left laying in the sand. On tv I even saw the loser of a match crying, I guess it’s a big deal. There seem to be different weight classes and ability levels but these guys are usually pretty big and very fit.
With the fight on Sunday – the Tyson fight, my entire street cleared out as people went inside to watch it on tv. Tyson isn’t his real name, he actually took the name for himself from Mike Tyson and he regularly wears a sort of poncho made out of an American flag. He is from Kaolack and appeared to be the favorite to win. He was walking around before the match all cocky and full of himself so I started rooting against him. It was a pretty good match and Tyson ended up losing, I’m interested to see what it’ll do for his image – he’s in a couple commercials here and everything.
With the fight on Sunday – the Tyson fight, my entire street cleared out as people went inside to watch it on tv. Tyson isn’t his real name, he actually took the name for himself from Mike Tyson and he regularly wears a sort of poncho made out of an American flag. He is from Kaolack and appeared to be the favorite to win. He was walking around before the match all cocky and full of himself so I started rooting against him. It was a pretty good match and Tyson ended up losing, I’m interested to see what it’ll do for his image – he’s in a couple commercials here and everything.
Transportation
While in Kaolack, my transportation has consisted of my feet, my bike and taxi’s most of which seem like they might fall apart at any moment. With the taxis, there is a choice of weather you want a regular taxi that will take you exactly where you want to go for 500 CFA (~$1) or route taxis that you share with other people and go to the various garages and markets around town for 100 CFA per person. In the route taxis – normal European car size, they normally have 3 people in back and cram 2 people, in addition to the driver in the front.
To get to Sokone I went to one of the garages (a lot where all the public transport to various parts of the region/country can be found, along with hordes of people venders selling food, clothes and other junk that no one really needs. I soon found myself surrounded by people who wanted to sell me something, kids (talibes) who wanted me to give them money and a couple people trying to help me (I think) find a vehicle going where I wanted to go. After about 15 minutes of complete chaos I found a sept-place, sept as in 7 in French. These are sort of like mini-station wagons and have two rows of seats in addition to the driver and front passenger seats. With three in each of the back rows that’s 7 not including the driver. This can be somewhat uncomfortable but is usually the best option. The trip to Sokone, which took a little under an hour, cost 800 CFA per person.
The road between Kaolack and Sokone appears to be decent, but appearances can be deceiving. Because of the potholes, the driver spent about the same about of time off the road as he did on it. When we were on the road we were usually swerving to avoid a pothole or another vehicle that was attempting to avoid a pothole, or a herd of longhorns crossing the road.
While in Sokone we decided to take a charette to Paul’s village. Think of a wooden flat bed with two wheels pulled by equine animal of choice. This is where we weren’t being very smart. There were 5 of us and we decided to take a donkey charette because there wasn’t a horse drawn one around. The poor animal was going so slow because of the weight and because of the mud and sand path we had to go on, that we really could’ve walked much faster, so we took turns walking next to the charette.
To get back to Kaolack, we took a mini-car, also known as an Alham, short for Alhamdulilah – Arabic for praise God. They are called this because most of them have the word painted somewhere on it. This vehicle is kind of like a small bus and has about 6 or 7 benches in it that can each fit 3 or even 4 people somewhat comfortably, but always have 5 people squeezing onto each bench. Alhams will stop for anyone on the side of the road as long as there is an inch of room inside or on top so they can be somewhat slow.
Final note on transport – it’s not unusual to see live animals strapped to the top of any of the aforementioned vehicles – oftentimes screaming bloody murder. Shocking at first but pretty funny later.
To get to Sokone I went to one of the garages (a lot where all the public transport to various parts of the region/country can be found, along with hordes of people venders selling food, clothes and other junk that no one really needs. I soon found myself surrounded by people who wanted to sell me something, kids (talibes) who wanted me to give them money and a couple people trying to help me (I think) find a vehicle going where I wanted to go. After about 15 minutes of complete chaos I found a sept-place, sept as in 7 in French. These are sort of like mini-station wagons and have two rows of seats in addition to the driver and front passenger seats. With three in each of the back rows that’s 7 not including the driver. This can be somewhat uncomfortable but is usually the best option. The trip to Sokone, which took a little under an hour, cost 800 CFA per person.
The road between Kaolack and Sokone appears to be decent, but appearances can be deceiving. Because of the potholes, the driver spent about the same about of time off the road as he did on it. When we were on the road we were usually swerving to avoid a pothole or another vehicle that was attempting to avoid a pothole, or a herd of longhorns crossing the road.
While in Sokone we decided to take a charette to Paul’s village. Think of a wooden flat bed with two wheels pulled by equine animal of choice. This is where we weren’t being very smart. There were 5 of us and we decided to take a donkey charette because there wasn’t a horse drawn one around. The poor animal was going so slow because of the weight and because of the mud and sand path we had to go on, that we really could’ve walked much faster, so we took turns walking next to the charette.
To get back to Kaolack, we took a mini-car, also known as an Alham, short for Alhamdulilah – Arabic for praise God. They are called this because most of them have the word painted somewhere on it. This vehicle is kind of like a small bus and has about 6 or 7 benches in it that can each fit 3 or even 4 people somewhat comfortably, but always have 5 people squeezing onto each bench. Alhams will stop for anyone on the side of the road as long as there is an inch of room inside or on top so they can be somewhat slow.
Final note on transport – it’s not unusual to see live animals strapped to the top of any of the aforementioned vehicles – oftentimes screaming bloody murder. Shocking at first but pretty funny later.
The Village
Paul’s village, Bambougar Malik Ndeye, was an interesting sight. About 4km from Sokone, the village is made up of buildings with cement walls and grass or tin roofs. Most families live in a compound (like I do in the city), which is basically a group of several small buildings surrounded by some sort of fence. Each room, bedroom, kitchen is its own building with a courtyard-type thing in the middle where, in some cases there are animals (dogs, goats, sheep, chickens). The strange thing about Bambougar is that it has electricity thanks to an NGO (Non-Government Organization) that came through recently and gave everyone in the village solar panels. Most villages do not have any form of electricity and no running water. For water to drink, bathe in cook with and wash in there are deep wells, also likely installed by an NGO. The women of the villages bring large plastic basins to the well at various times during the day and fill them up by pulling buckets of water up (10m or so) by hand. Latrines in villages are made up of a cement slab with a hole in it, covering a septic tank-like structure. These are usually surrounded by a grass fence and is also where people take their bucket-baths.
I’m planning on visiting a couple more villages in the near future so I can get a feel for the life of a rural volunteer.
I’m planning on visiting a couple more villages in the near future so I can get a feel for the life of a rural volunteer.
Happy New Year and intro
Happy New Year! Hope that 2006 is a great, prosperous year and may you all find peace, happiness and love.
I spent New Years in Sokone, a small town nestled in the mangroves of the Sine-Saloum Delta. I visited a town-based volunteer and a village based volunteer, went swimming in the mangroves twice, went to two traditional, Senegalese wrestling matches and had lots of fun with the transportation.
The following entries are my take on various parts of life in Senegal:
I spent New Years in Sokone, a small town nestled in the mangroves of the Sine-Saloum Delta. I visited a town-based volunteer and a village based volunteer, went swimming in the mangroves twice, went to two traditional, Senegalese wrestling matches and had lots of fun with the transportation.
The following entries are my take on various parts of life in Senegal:
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