It's September 1st!

I arrived in Tivaouane in the early afternoon of Tuesday, August 23, 2011.  It was okay to see the Peace Corps van pull away.  I spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking and making my room as homey as I can.  I have a big room; big enough for a queen sized bed with mosquito net, night stands on both sides, a mini-fridge, water filter, shelves for my clothes, books, misc. and toiletries, my purple bike, a fan, a chair and 2 trunks.  And there is still room to move about.  I like it.  Unpacking was really the only thing on my agenda that day.  It’s like a studio apartment, I’d say.

The rest of the day I hung out with the family, we broke fast at dusk with Café Touba (some kind of spicy coffee), dates and beneigts.  (It’s Ramadan here and 95% of the country doesn’t eat between dawn and dusk).  Then I hung out some more, watched TV, helped my host mom a little bit with dinner.  Dinner is late in Senegal, usually around 9pm;  dinner is late, for Senegalese standards, in this family.  We ate around 11:30pm.  My hope is that we eat earlier when Ramadan is over.  My bedtime is 10pm!  I’m serious.  It’s like eating and running.  As soon as dinner is over, I go directly to bed.  It feels weird, but I’m pooped.

I sleep a lot here; not only because I like sleep, but I need my rest after a day of just being here.  My first night, not surprisingly, I didn’t sleep well.  New bed, new sounds, but I had sheets and my pillow from home (so glad I brought those)!

I agreed to meet my work partner the next morning at 10am.  I didn’t get there until 11ish.  I got lost in a town with one main road.  I decided to take a side road.  I ended up being close to my target but still couldn’t find it.  Eventually I did.  A work partner took me to meet the Chief of Police, The Mayor and the Gendarmerie (but we will go back there later since the big cheese wasn’t there). 

As I make my way around town I am called “Toubab” (white person – not necessarily derogatory), kids yell “bon jour” or “bon soir” (no matter the time of day), and repeatedly demand “Give me money!” or “Give me a basketball!”  The kids will follow you for blocks.  Yeah…it is kind of annoying.  I am so white here!  I have heard that I am the only white person living in this town of almost 40,000.  I believe it.  The other day, walking home, a made a little girl cry, just because I’m white.  Every time I looked at her she shrieked louder.  I then burst into laughter after I walked away.  What else could I do?  It was pretty funny.  I do hope she recovered, though.

I kicked my 4 year old brother out of my room just now because he fiddled with my bike after I told him to leave it alone.  He is now at my door trying to get my attention by pushing things under the door and saying “pssssst”.  I must establish the boundaries early.  My second night, my 11 year old brother asked me “Do you have a computer?  Does it play movies?”  My answer “Yes I have one, it’s only for work and it doesn’t play movies.”  There are two laptops in the living room…mine is just new, I guess.  I intend to keep my computer in tip top shape by allowing only my grubby fingers to grace the keyboard.

I am teaching my brothers that they must knock before they come in.  So far, the oldest one seems to be respecting this rule; I am still working on the younger one.  I am also teaching them to keep their feet off my stuff.  What is it with the feet?  They want to stick their feet on everything, my bed, my pillow, my coffee table.  It’s just gross. 

Speaking of brothers, in all my families I have only brothers.  My birth family, my German host family, my CBT site family in Mboro and my host family in Tivaouane have only boys.  In Africa this means I clean up after the men and boys!  I don’t like it one bit.  But if I am to integrate and be a part of this family, I must accept the social norms and culture.  It’s just hard when there is a huge mess left after dinner or lunch; the males just sit around and I and/or my host mom clean everything up.

I am really looking forward to speaking the language better.  At this point, I have switched to French in the family except for my littlest brother since he doesn’t speak French yet.  My French is still very basic and I am often frustrated especially when people are frustrated that I don’t understand them and they don’t understand me.  It makes me want to get on the first plane home…