Betsy, Carlee and I visited the Monument of the African Renaissance in Dakar. Its construction is very controversial, which you can read about it here: http://www.economist.com/world/middle-east/displaystory.cfm?story_id=15581322

This is the Monument from my perspective standing at its foot:

I spent the rest of the day and evening with my host family. I packed, chatted, relaxed, and then my mom asked me to draw a picture on the wall in chalk. spent a lot of time drawing different designs in little sketchbooks and my host mom loved them, so she requested that I create one for the house. Just as I was finishing, the power went out.

For dinner, Maman Bolo made makhalou saloum…one of my favorite meals:

The farewell dinner: Makhalou Saloum, a meat, rice, and peanut flour mix with piment (hot pepper sauce) per one's taste. NEEX NA TOROP

The water had been turned off, the electricity was cut, so my host mom said Dakar was saying goodbye. We ate dinner by candlelight, then cut up the mangoes and apples that I purchased for dessert.

My host mom, Maman Bolo, and a mango.

The program assistants gave us money to have our host families take us to the airport. My host mom along with Mor and Aby accompanied me in our family friend’s taxi. We took one final picture together in front of the entrance, just before I started to cry and we said our goodbyes. My host mom and I wore our outfits we had made by her brother-in-law, Dembe who works as a tailor. We each did our own style of black ensembles with gold embroidery on this really soft fabric from Mauritania.

It has been a roller coaster ride of five months…which has been harder than I expected to get off of.  A lot of people returning from trips to places similar to Africa, meaning developing countries where they see poverty, return with a renewed appreciation of what they have. I have heard people say time and time again, “Returning from _____, I realized how lucky I am to have all that I do.” Sure, I have a lot more luxuries than my Senegalese family, but in many ways I felt that my life was much richer in my home in the Mermoz quartier of Dakar, Senegal. I now realize, after having readjusted a bit, that the Senegalese are so lucky to have what they do. The vibrancy with which they dress, walk, talk, and act creates a standard of living that I have never known. I may be skipping over the dirty details of my time in Dakar, but overall it was during these five months that I had the most defining experiences of my life so far.

For me, returning from Dakar, Senegal, West Africa, I am honored that so many Senegalese shared their homes, stories, food, and lives with me. I am lucky to have been allowed to experience their reality.

This was taken just after Nana had finished.

I paid Nana, my host cousin, about $4 for her to braid my hair. It took about three hours and was not very painful. The afternoon I spent with the family lasted upwards of six hours, including hair braiding, walks to the boutique, buying mads at the corner stall, and eating mangoes from the tree next door. I just took out the braids after about two weeks of wearing them! It was so much more convenient to have my hair pulled back with the heat, and not having to deal with the frizzy mess that my hair was in Senegal.

Maman Bolo mixing the henna in the morning to use that evening. The henna was a dirt-like consistency, and is sitting on the plate in the picture.

Many senegalese women decorate their hands and feet with henna. You can buy many different kinds of henna powder at the markets, which either create a red or black dye on the skin. I chose the more natural red, and then purchased adhesive tape to create the designs. I taped

my own hands and feet at night. My host mom prepared the powder by adding water and gave it extra color by adding dried hibiscus leaves to the mix when she soaked it. She applied the dirt-like mixture to my hands and feet, covered them with leaves from the tree behind our house, and then sealed them with plastic bags. I then slept with my hands and feet covered. She scraped off the henna and the tapes with a spoon in the morning. I had to wash my feet many times to get it all off, but it turned out really well. When I walk around Dakar, many men and women say “say foudon, dafa rafeet torop” or “your henna, it is very beautiful.”

Sama foudon, my henna, on my hands and feet. I also have a small design on my palms, and the entire underside of my feet are dyed also.

This is the inside of the mad, pronounced mod. You slice off the top, use the knife to loosen the seeds inside and add sugar, salt, and hot pepper. You suck on the seeds to eat the fruit.

Side view of the Mad. The toothpick is used to get the seeds out. You can also use your hands, which is easier...just like when eating fish.

The vendeuse who was selling Mads on the beach on the Ile de Ngor (Ngor Island)

There were so many new tastes and smells in Senegal that I could never have imagined, some good some bad, but all provoking and interesting. As an intense fruit lover, I tried every fruit available. This type of fruit, the Mad, is something I have never seen before or even heard of in my life. I hope I will be able to have it again someday, inchallah (god willing).

These past few posts have been written since my return to the United States. I have found it easier to catch up on things I wanted to post about due to the internet access here. I am extremely sentimental and reminiscent as I recount just a few of my experiences that are easy to share. The moments that I have shared here are just a tiny tiny portion of what I have seen,

felt, and endured while in Senegal. I already miss things that I never thought I would…like not having any privacy, eating dinner at nine pm, doing laundry by hand, feeling the dirt and the dust of Dakar on my skin and never being clean…

From my room in Libertyville, it all seems so far away. I do not want to lose it and I do not how to get it back. It is the feeling that the culture gave me, the warmth of the Senegalese community, that sheltered me these last five months. As my friend Dounia wrote, “the Senegalese do not have money, so they spend time.” It is the investment in others that is natural and ingrained in each man and woman that I want to keep with me. I do not know if I can translate it to others, but I will try. I spent five months sharing my life with my Senegalese friends and family, and I hope they know how much they have changed me in every way.

Oh Senegal, nama nala? Mala raw torop.

]]> http://kellidakar.wordpress.com/2010/05/22/mad-the-fruit/feed/ 4 kellidakar The inside of the mad sideview of mad Mad seller Red Braids http://kellidakar.wordpress.com/2010/05/21/some-glimpses-into-everyday-life-and-activities/ http://kellidakar.wordpress.com/2010/05/21/some-glimpses-into-everyday-life-and-activities/#comments Fri, 21 May 2010 17:05:32 +0000 kellidakar http://kellidakar.wordpress.com/?p=101 ]]> Weekend breakfast with my siblings: On the weekends we all eat together. Everyone leaves for school at different times during the week, so ndekki (breakfast in wolof) is self-serve.

My brothers and sister serving themselves to breakfast. From left to right: Papi, Mor, and Aby. A typical breakfast includes milk (from powder), nescafe (for me), and bread with chocolate spread, jam, laughing cow cheese, or butter. The bread is what we would call a "french baguette," it is tasteless and has the nutritional equivalency of cardboard. It tastes okay if you dip it in your drink.

Laundry: maangi def foot (I do laundry) by hand in Senegal. Most Sundays or whenever I found the time, I would hand wash and line dry all of my clothes. It took me at least a month to be able to wash anything according to my host mom’s lowest standards. But by the end of my time there, I was allowed to do it by myself.

Sitting in the house on a bench doing laundry. I used three buckets: one for soaking, one for washing, and one for rinsing. I would hang the laundry on the line inside if there was not too much, if not I would put it on our neighbor's line, the Sane family, located on their roof.

Cooking dinner/lunch: Yassa Ginaar
I requested yassa-making lessons from my host mom. It is a combination white rice, seasoned chicken, and onion sauce dish that is very popular and one of the easiest dishes to learn to make. Some photos of the process:

This is where my Mom does all of the cooking. There are two gases that she cooks on, even though we have a stove she prefers the gas. The pulled-apart chicken for lunch is in the bowl. Chicken tends to be expensive, so we only had it on special occasions.

This is my sister Aby with the marinades and the chicken. My mom grilled the chicken over a small charcoal grill after she had stuffed it with spices and marinated it. I was allowed to cut onions and assist with the sauce making.

This is the final product ready to be eaten. My host mom filled the bowl with cooked white rice, the chicken, and the onion sauce. The container with the green lid is filled with piment sauce, made of very hot peppers. Each person added it to their section per their taste. I have gained a huge appreciation and taste for piment due to my Tonton Ibrahima Gueye, an uncle who eats with us. He taught me how to eat and appreciate it very well. For every meal, we sat around the bowl on benches or the floor depending on age and ate with spoons. Traditionally we would eat with hands, but my family choose to eat with spoons for sanitary reasons and for me. I can get by eating with my hand, but it is definitely a skill that is to be learned after much time.

Alhamdulillah! Mangoes came into season a few weeks ago. They are so cheap (about 20-50 cents)! The mangoes we have in the USA do not even compare. I do not have any qualms about getting it everywhere: hands, face, clothes...the perfect fruit.

On Santa Antao we stayed at this lovely hostel nestled in the Valley of Paul in between banana and sugar cane plantations. The hostel owner is originally Dutch but has lived in Cape Verde for about 15 years. We had to hike about fifteen minutes up from the road to get to the hostel. On Santa Antao we went hiking in the mountains, on the coast, and along the roads. Our first hike took us to the top of a Cove where we had to hike downwards for about five hours. The second hike was about 15 km along the coast up and down steep switchbacks. On both hikes we ran into two german ladies who were also hiking and vacationing on Santa Antao. We also hiked with an older German gentleman named Dieter, who told us that he had never hiked with such beautiful ladies before.

Five hours of downhill switchbacks in the most stunning valley.

This is from the 15km hike we did along the coast of Santa Antao. You can see a little bit of the black sand beaches.

Most of the inhabitants of Santa Antao are farmers. The main crops are bananas, papayas, and sugar cane. They practice terrace farming within the mountains, meaning they carve what look like large stairs into the sides of cliffs to grow their crops.

Some terraced farming in the valley and some newly harvested sugar cane.

From the sugar cane, the Cape Verdeans like to make grogue, which is similar to rum but made out of the locally-grown sugar cane. It came in a few forms, pure grogue and also a ponche where it was mixed with a molasses-like product also made out of sugar cane called mel.

Many bottles of different concentrations of grogue.

After four days on Santa Antao, we took the ferry back to Sao Vicente where we spent two days and one night in Mindelo, the cultural capital of Cape Verde. It is a city on the coast, it is very colorful, beautiful, and much cleaner than Senegal.

The city of Mindelo during sunset.

Cape Verdeans are characterized by their light skin, as compared to other Africans. This is mainly because most of them are of mixed ancestry, a product of the colonial rule of Cape Verde by Portugal. The languages spoken there are Portugese and also a Portugese creole. We did not speak either but found it fairly easy to mime our way around the country. Overall, one of the best vacations and one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.

Thies:

It is located about one hour east of Dakar. We took a sept-place taxi which cost 1325 cfa, which is about $2.75. The taxis hold seven passengers and are rusty old station wagons. My friend Carlee and I were stuck in the back seat (basically the trunk) with a rather large woman that took up about two seats. Thankfully the ride was only an hour. In Thies, we met with a Peace Corps volunteer who works with a local painter. Carlee was doing research for her thesis and so set up the meeting. We spent time in the artisanal village and at the home/gallery of the painter, Babacar Dioss.

The loom in a textile worker's shop in Thies. This was in the artisanal village.

The tree-lined streets of Thies. There are many more trees here than in Dakar.

Artist Babacar Dioss in his studio in Thies.

My favorite: a painting of Baobabs. It has been hanging on this wall of his gallery for awhile, so I don't think it was for sale. There were some spiderwebs in the folds of the canvas.

Bandia:

IFEE, l’Institut de francais pour les etudients etrangers, or the branch of the University of Dakar where I take classes organized a trip to a wildlife reserve about two hours south of Dakar. About 130 students crammed into four buses and drove to go on a “safari.” It was basically like a zoo without cages. There we saw hyenas (they were caged so they would not eat the other animals), rhinoceros, gazelles, antelopes, zebras, giraffes, tortoises, and warthogs. I screamed PUMBA when the warthogs appeared. We spent most of the time driving around with a guide, but we were allowed to get out and move closer to the animals. It was pretty interesting to see what kinds of tourist attractions they set up in Africa. The visit to the reserve was followed by lunch and a visit to a village where we danced…again. It was very hot and dusty, but worth it in every way.

Giraffes at Bandia!

Dancing in the village of Bandia, located about 10 minutes from the reserve.