Week 9 - Dakar again!

“Thick headed commentators upon the Bible, and stupid preachers and teachers, work more damage to religion than sensible, cool brained clergymen can fight away again, toil as they may”

“Christ knew well how to preach to these simple, superstitious, disease tortured creatures: He healed the sick...no wonder his deeds were the talk of the nation”

“The sides are daubed with a smooth white plaster, and tastefully frescoed aloft and alow with disks of camel-dung placed there to dry. This gives the edifice the romantic appearance of having been riddled with cannon-balls, and imparts to it a very war-like aspect. When the artist has arranged his materials with an eye to just proportion, I know nothing more cheerful to look upon than a spirited Syrian fresco.”

“One must travel, to learn”

“That Adam was formed of dirt procured in this very spot is amply proven by the fact that in six thousand years no man has ever been able to prove that the dirt was not procured here whereof he was made”.

“We do not think, in the holy places; we think in bed, afterwards, when the glare, and the noise, and the confusion are gone, and in fancy we revisit alone, the solemn monuments of the past, and summon the phantom of an age that has passed away.”

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts”

Well there we go, finally finished The Innocents Abroad. A thoroughly enjoyable read, covering Europe as well as middle-eastern travel, and plenty of humour and prejudiced of the time to make it hilarious as well as illuminating.

(The sand rather lends authenticity)

Shower in a thunderstorm. Not really done that since Typhoon season in Japan. Really rather fun, especially with the amount of lightening here. Some of the closest flashes light up the garden as if in daylight.

So, it was only a matter of time before the football excursion was discovered, and therefore the much guessed at punishment, which was a mock sending home of myself. This rather back fired when all of the UK volunteers stood up and asked to be sent home as well, seeing as they had all been at the football as well. My first thoughts were, “but I still have to get a shirt made with the material I bought in Dakar”, and “Mum will be happy” as my parents will be away when I return. After a long afternoon of bickering and petty politics, involving all the volunteers and the ICS supervisor, that my first thoughts were not of regret about leaving Senegal are understandable, but not suggestive of my thoughts of the country or the time spent here. I have very much enjoyed living in Senegal, and the work we have done has been truly important. However, just as in Kazakhstan, when we were told, 8 months into a supposed 2 year commitment, that we were leaving, emotions were mixed, although remarkably similar both times; Disappointment at leaving projects and work unfinished, yet joy to be escaping the weather (this time the heat, instead of the Kazakh cold) and the food (again, far too many carbohydrates and meat and not enough vegetables). Instead of being sent home, I was given lines to do instead, naughty boy that I am. 

 (Windows in Goree)

Oh well, I am here for another week, and aim to get as much work done as possible! Not really any more opportunities for me to lead the team into trouble though, having seen and visited the two forbidden places (Touba and the football). Not that I have set myself the challenge, I promise. 

 (Bit of modern art, Goree)

We worked on Tuesday at a blood giving drive, aimed squarely at the young (Catholic) community of Thies. All of the Senegalese volunteers gave blood as well, although the UK volunteers were not allowed to. It is unclear if this was due to us being on anti-malarial medication (which would exclude one from giving blood in the UK), or if it was simply due to being foreign, which was the reason I wasn't able to give blood while living in Japan.

 (Gun turrets, questionable art, and Dakar in the background)

On Wednesday we spent the day gardening in front of the main catholic church, as part of a week of 'youth activities' organised by the Catholic diocese here. The current messiness of the flower beds was blamed on 'Muslims and their goats', which seemed like a believable response here as despite the peace and harmony between the two religions - to restate, Islam has a 94% national following - there are huge levels of distrust. The Muslims constitute the convenient 'other' so required in any society, in order to make one group feel better/more important/righteous. While Britain may resort to class, or the North/South divide, here it is religion, even more than tribe that is important. The Muslims are untrustworthy, cheats, terrorists, goat herders, dirty, old fashioned and stupid, and I can only imagine the Christians are seen as debauched drunkards, immoral, basically colonial peons set on destroying Senegalese tradition. With such distrust and peddling of stereotypes, it is therefore wonderful that there exists such peace, inter-marriage and mixed villages!

(Colours in Goree)

I have lost 6kg in my time in Africa, which puts me at 80kg and perfect for a cycling racing season. Alas, as ill be off to Cambodia next week, it won't be usable. Will have to see how the diet and lifestyle of Cambodia effects my weight.

 (Slave building- whites upstairs, the slaves downstairs)

Managed to find the only English speaking taxi driver in Thies the other day, and had a fun drive home, with him pointing out the houses of the corrupt politicians, or 'money eaters' as he quaintly phrased it. Corruption here (and in West Africa in general from what I have seen) is systematic amongst politicians, and seen as a reward of office. This has the effect of both attracting certain people to political life, and alienating the population. Neither of which is healthy for a democracy, and countries struggling with huge social and resource based problems.

Our final free weekend for exploring Senegal saw us back in Dakar. It really is huge and varied and I can hardly claim to have seen it all now in four days, but I have certainly gotten a feel for the place, and seen the main sights.

(Only building not looking lovely, and its being done up right now- The Town Hall, Goree)

Ile de Goree is touted as the premier tourist attraction in the country, and having spent four hours there, I agree. The original western settlement in the Dakar area, it formed the centre of the slaving industry for three hundred years. Its importance is easily seen today by the two forts, impressive houses, a big church and general signs of prosperity. Unlike Saint Louis, which is quietly crumbling away, Goree has been maintained and looked after, and the colourful houses, bougainvillea, quiet alleys and general atmosphere (away from the tourist craziness of the ferry terminal) create a very beautiful destination. Despite being popular with tourists, the ferry was overwhelmingly made up of Senegalese visitors, and it is great to see that Dakar's middle-class is able to support its own attractions. Now it just has to work on art galleries and museums, which are distinctly lacking!

(Just another ally on Goree)

The former slave house- where upstairs the owners and dealers lived, and downstairs the slaves were crammed into tiny cells. With 95% of the visitors there being African, and with guides and signs explaining the horrors of the slave trade it was impossible to feel anything other than guilty, coming from a former slaving country. Rather like being British and visiting Amritsar (site of a colonial massacre), or American and Little Big Horn, or possibly German and Auschwitz, the sense of guilt for something carried out by our ancestors is strong (for me at least). It also highlights how the repercussions for our actions can have consequences for many generations – I wonder how future Britons will judge our generation for our actions regarding Israel, or Iraq or rainforests...sorry in advance!

One of the forts, which, by the looks of it was fortified up until WW1 and possibly WW2, offers a very strange contrast between war and peace. With large cannons dotting the hills, and the defences and walls still in good condition, the whole area now has been taken over by artists and musicians. While most of the work is repetitive and frankly crap, the image they provide, of peace and art surviving after war has finished was strangely uplifting. 

 (The Island)

Another site I wanted to visit was the Grand Mosque in the centre of Dakar. Its single minaret is visible across most of the city, and as the focal point for Islam in a city of three million, I felt sure it must be worth visiting. I arrived just after midday prayers, and after the flood of the devout had filed out, all that was left were the beggars and cripples, seemingly from half of Africa. Just as with Christian churches of old, the giving of 'alms' after services is a strong part of Islam, but here it felt as it there was a 1:1 beggar to attendee ratio. It made being a visitor really uncomfortable, as the classic stereotype of white = rich was never more keenly felt, and I had to leave quickly. Which was fine, as architecturally, the mosque was nothing special at all. What looked like fine sculpture and mosaic work from afar was just concrete moulding and large painted tiles, in the modern 'flat-pack' mosque style to which most new mosques conform. 

 (Neighbours)

One brief thought that came to me, was how amazing Google maps on one's phone is. Internet not required to work out, via GPS where you are, and you can therefore follow your journey in a bus say, without needing to know exactly when to get off before hand..... life saver given all the travelling i do, to countries where i don't speak the language.

Entering final week of work.... bring on Cambodia and the UN!

Week 8 - Dakar finally!

“It is not pleasant to see an American thrusting his nationality forward obtrusively in a foreign land but Oh, it is pitiable to see him making of himself a thing that is neither male or female, neither fish, flesh, nor fowl – a poor, miserable, hermaphrodite Frenchmen!”

“He was born in South Carolina, of slave parents...he has grown up here. He is well educated. He reads, writes, and speaks English, Italian, Spanish, and French, with perfect facility; is a worshiper of art and thoroughly conversant with it...He dresses better than any of us, I think, and is daintily polite. Negroes are deemed as good as white people, in Venice, and so this man feels no desire to go back to his native land. His judgement is correct.”

“Now we will descend into the crypt, under the grand altar of Milan Cathedral, and receive an impressive sermon from lips that have been silent and hands that have been gestureless for three hundred years”

“All this country belongs to the Papal States. They do not appear to have an schools here, and only one billiard table.”

“There is a great difference between feeding parties to wild beasts and stirring up their finer feelings in an Inquisition. One is the system degraded barbarians, the other of enlightened, civilised people. It is a great pity the playful inquisition is no more.”

Taking longer with The Innocents Abroad that I expected, given how much I enjoy it. After returning home from work at 6.30pm ish, there isn't much time after a short run to read before the light fades, and the light in my room isn't good enough to read by alas.

Village life here is the closest thing I have yet come across to match my Kazakhstan Peace Corps experience. I live in the village of Peycouk-Serer (the Serer referring to the tribe most prominent in the village), about 20mins outside of Thies, the 3^rd biggest city in Senegal, with around four hundred thousand inhabitants. Having taught English here in the local school for the first few weeks, my fame (and name) is now widespread. I have managed to go running two or three times a week, nothing crazy, just a 5km jaunt out into the fields surrounding the village, but my moments through the village are marked by children running and laughing alongside, shouting the numbers and colours and fruit they are able to remember, and it is great fun. This is exactly as it was in my village of Beskol in Kazakhstan (although I also had to contend with viscous dogs as well). It also helps to re-enforce that the role we have out here, while sometimes feeling small and insignificant, does indeed work in useful ways. While very few of the village kids will require English in life, it is required to pass school, and heck, it helped them enjoy their summer holiday.

African dress – bright prints, different cuts, collarless shirt/trouser combos for the men – is vastly more popular here than in Sierra Leone. There, it had to be presidentially 'suggested' for Africana to be worn on Fridays, and for men at least Fridays were the only time outside of weddings that it was used. In Senegal, Africana is daily dress for many, especially outside Dakar. From market traders, to taxi drivers, to NGO directors, it is everywhere, and there are a corresponding number of fabric shops and tailors to meet demand. The bustling Freetown market only had two shops dedicated to African prints, while even little Thies has a whole street of the stuff. I just bought the fabric to make a truly fantastic shirt, and photos will be provided upon completion, fear not.

It was announced last week that Ebola, the current scourge of West Africa, has reached Senegal. A student from Guinea is the first confirmed case, and it seems to be a relief to the national psyche that the first victim is foreign. “It may be here, but no Senegalese have Ebola” etc. Unlike the slow, and tragically comical response to Ebola in Sierra Leone, here - and with the benefit of two extra months of hearing about the outbreak – the response has been much more active. The border with Guinea, the only neighbouring country with the disease (and the source of the outbreak in the first place), it now greatly monitored, and temperature checks (to spot fever, the only early sign of Ebola) are now mandatory. In the clinic where we work twice a week, glove use and hand washing are now far more strictly enforced amongst the staff (even the receptionist wears gloves now), and if nothing else, will lead to improved standards there!

There are none of the “Ebola isn't real”, or “It was sent by god to cleanse the homosexuals”, or “We can pray this away” that so punctuated the discourse in Sierra Leone, and which lead to the very slow official response, and a terribly lax attitude amongst residents. If Ebola does indeed spread further here, the petty superstition and distrust of government and NGO's that pervaded in Sierra Leone will not stand in the way, and one only hopes this will help to ensure the quick and effective isolation and treatment of cases, and not mass panic and bodies left in the streets that Freetown and Monrovia have witnessed.

Watching TV here is an interesting look into a form of neocolonialism, albeit the soft kind. While satellite TV in Sierra Leone comes via South Africa, everything here is French company Canal+. Most of the channels offer popular cartoons, shows and films from the US/UK, dubbed into French, on top of domestic French programming. Only one or two channels cater to wolof (the local prima lingua) speakers, and for some reason, the only English channel is Polish National Geographic. On top of language, the French programming offers some more subtle examples of neocolonial projections. Namely, the adverts broadcast here are aimed at the French domestic market, not Senegal. Shampoos with white models, huge amounts of candy, vast supermarkets, kids toys, music concerts, all offer a glimpse of goods – the developed world – that are not available to the vast majority of people here. It cant help with the national spirit, or government efforts to convince unemployed or recent university graduates that they should stay in Senegal, rather than try – legally or otherwise – to move to France, where it is daily shown on TV that McDonalds and Evian flow freely down the gold-paved streets. The programming also offers up examples of cultures that are markedly alien here, and indeed sometimes illegal. While Kazakhstan received most of its TV from Russia, a country with similar views on homosexuality, here the attitudes and sexual norms of Europe and the US are daily broadcast, in direct opposition to the conservative Catholic and Muslim Senegal, where homosexuality is illegal. With no open displays of same-sex affection, certainly no 'camp' people, and rather modest fashion, the images, even on teenage TV programming is very different – there are certainly not any gay teenage characters in domestic made soaps. I wonder what effect this has both on the role of traditional role models/ decriers of acceptable norms, and how young people view their own ability to express themselves.

I know I have spoken about food here before, but heck, I will do it again. The practice of eating around a communal bowl certainly an African authenticity to family meals, and forces everyone to eat together (well, men with men, and women with the kids in my house, as there are too many of us to share a single bowl). But, and I never thought I would say this (and I fear I am starting to sound like Dad), but I wish the experience was slower and more relaxed. The whole event is over in five minutes, with people, as subtly as possible (or not) trying to each as much of the food in front of them as possible before someone else around the bowl does. There is no time for talking, or even drinking. A quick grace is followed by an almost medieval devouring of food, with fish or chicken bones discarded onto the floor to be swept up afterwards. Five minutes later, and people return to whatever they were doing before. No dessert, no commenting on the chef's work (large bowls of couscous and bean sauce, in honesty, don't really deserve much culinary praise). I am (in)famous at home for the quick speed at which I eat, and yet the whole thing here is so rushed as to be almost unpleasant. We, the UK volunteers, relish the times we eat out in Thies, with our own plates and more cutlery than just the normal spoon (half of the family eschew even that, eating with their hands), or to share our own bowl of food when at camps, taking vastly longer to eat than the others, but leaving happy and relaxed. This wasn't meant to sound as negative as it might do – I fully understand the important of cultural identity – but in this instance, it is one which directly effects me on a daily basis, and I don't like it!

 (Yoff, the view from the holiday apartment!)

This weekend saw my first real exploration of Dakar, as well as another elicit visit to somewhere expressly verboten. Senegal played Egypt in a qualifying match for the African Cup on Friday night, and I, along with the 5 volunteers under my watch all went, decked out in Senegal jerseys of course. Due to a riot at the last home match against Ivory Coast in 2012 (to which Senegal received a 2 year home-match ban), the YMCA was adamant volunteers couldn't attend. With the Embassy here having no concerns (after visiting the Ambassador in the first week, I am now in regular contact with his deputy), the Y-Care boss also seeing no issues, and common sense predicting that a home crowd starved of football for two years wouldn't be so stupid as to riot this time (coupled with a markedly increased police presence), I took the decision to allow my team to go (the Team Leader in Kaolack did not), as much because I wanted to go, as the reality that there is little I could do to stop them going alone. It was a great match, with Senegal dominating, both physically and dynamically, the young Egyptian side, and the 2-0 score reflected this. There was also enough bad refereeing to keep things interesting in the stands, with Egypt avoiding a clear sending off for a 'last-man' foul, and Senegal somehow avoiding a blatant penalty in the final minutes. Needless to say, there wasn't a riot, and apart from someone trying to pick my pocket, the whole thing was a success. Now just have to wait to see if anyone spotted us on the TV coverage, and what the punishment will be. Having received our living allowance till the end, and Y-Care hardly likely to send 6 volunteers home, it is unclear what exactly a punishment would entail. Not that I am hoping to find out of course, with the maintenance of the current Y-Care- YMCA – ICS volunteer relationship being very important. 

 (The train station, or what it left of it)

Dakar itself, is so markedly different from the other cities in Senegal, and so clearly the capital, it comes as a bit of a shock. Western clothing, women driving, big 4x4s, bakeries everywhere, more French (and English) spoken, less flies, less litter, less Talibe kids (which is strange, given the clear wealth on show) and white people everywhere. The bus system in extensive and works, thankfully, as the taxis are double the price from the provinces. The pavements are paved (as opposed to just sand) etc etc etc. I even visited my first 'real' supermarket in almost 6 months (there wern't any in Sierra Leone). Dakar truly is a different city. With a tick-list of things to see, Georges and I (the girls all travelled home the morning after the match) managed to visit the fabric market, the former main railway station with its beautiful but crumbing facade, the empty and equally crumbing Independence Square, the huuugeee clearly Soviet inspired Monument of African Renaissance (which is rumoured to have been built by the North Koreans), the most westerly point in Africa, the beaches of N'Gor and Yoff and plenty more besides.

(Soviet statue, and a baobab tree, Dakar)

Each area of the city is clearly a separate entity, in terms of culture and wealth. So Yoff is strictly Muslim (no smoking in the street), N'Gor is a fishing 'village', and the area called 'Les Alimedes', is the posh part of town, home to palatial houses, expensive restaurants, the colossal new US embassy and seemingly every major NGO possible – UNICEF, the UN (and all related bodies- UNHCR etc), the World Food Programme, Red Cross and Red Crescent are all within a 10 minute walk of each other. As well as a small supermarket dedicated solely to American food stuffs – namely sugary drinks, Tex-mex kits, cake kits and junk food. In a country where the only food additive is MSG (and it is in everything, unfortunately), to offer all of the e-number and saturated fat filled crap from the US, seems a shame and a waste, but there is clearly a market for the stuff.

 (Dakar's suburban mass)

Even with all this exploring, I will be back again next weekend for more! The former French fort and slave area on a small island, the presidential palace, a couple of art galleries and the nation museum, there is plenty more to see, and with only two more weekends left, it would be a shame to miss out. There are a number of places in Senegal I didn't get to visit, namely the national parks which require one to have a 4x4 and cash, but I think I will leave Senegal with a good sense of the country, and having been able to explore it more than I was Sierra Leone. 

 (Most westerly part of Africa)

Week 7 - Joal-Fadiouth

Speaking of a lizard on a Roman road:

“His coat is the colour of ashes: and ashes are the symbol of hopes that have perished, of aspirations that came to naught, of loves that are buried. If he could speak, he would say, Build temples: I will lord it in their ruins,; build palaces; I will inhabit them; erect empires: I will inherit them; bury your beautiful: I will watch the worms at their work; and you, who stand there and moralize over me: I will crawl over your corpse at the last”.

Speaking of Morocco:

“The people of Tangier lived in the rudest possible huts, and dressed in skins and carried clubs, and were as savage as the wild beasts they were constantly obliged to war with. But they were a gentlemanly race, and did no work'.

“I have caught a glimpse of the faces of several Moorish women...and I am full of veneration for the wisdom that leads them to cover up such atrocious ugliness.”

Speaking of the Azores:

“The community is eminently Portuguese – that is to say, it is slow, poor, shiftless, sleepy, and lazy.”

Mark Twain's The Innocents Abroad is a hilarious look at the thoughts and prejudices of Americans, travelling through Europe and the Middle East in the 1800's. American wealth, and feelings of superiority that this breed are clearly evident, and a disregard of 'history', in favour of modernity and convenience feature throughout. Much of the subject matter is equally applicable today!

My Monday morning activity – working at the health clinic – is tough at the best of times, but this week was extremely hard, and helped to re-enforce the fact that I am completely unqualified for this role! A teenage girl came in, suffering from the late stages of breast cancer. Being too poor to receive treatment, it had been left to spread, and all we could do was clean and bandage the remains of her right breast, and send her away. Added to that, a cute 3 year old with full facial burns, and having to remove a maggot from a man's finger, and it all added up to a really difficult day.

After working with this cross-cultural group now for seven weeks, some of the problems inherent in any team have boiled and bubbled their way to the surface. Namely (lack of) communication, and people just being unable to think logically and clearly. Nothing serious really, but they have lead to a number of difficult moments. All part of the fun, and working on ways to improve them is part of the reason I am here doing this.

After going to the NGO PLAN to seek more work, we have been working well with them. This week, my group visited a Paular village to survey mosquito net usage. Traditional nomadic herders, their villages still retain a temporary look, with basic single room huts, thatched roofs and certainly no plumbing or electricity. Living on the outskirts of towns, they do not take part in formal education or indeed much in what would be called 'Senegalese life'. They look more Arabic in features, with bigger and sharper noses, and not as tall or dark as many people here. They are also the tribe that does the facial tattoos which I highlighted in an earlier post about the Daara. Little evidence of mosquito net usage, although most had nets in drawers.

On Monday we visited the best daara yet. While still far from ideal, with overcrowding and dirt clearly evident, the kids we actively and vocally learning when we visited, and there were even girls learning (although in a separate group to one side). With a positive environment than the other two, it is refreshing to see that it is possible for the system to work. 

 (Cemetery island on the left)

The weekend saw our mid-term review, nicely located on the coast. Unfortunately the water was filthy and un-swimable, but the hotel had a pool, and the sea breeze was refreshing. Nearby is a town built entirely on a island of shells. Only reachable by boat or a new bridge (lovely built by Total Oil), it is a lovely little place, and despite its clear tourist appeal, was thankfully muted, although the rain may have helped. About 80% Christian, with enough free-roaming pigs to support that number, there is still a mosque, and the cemetery, on a neighbouring island of shells, features graves of both religions (even if the Muslim ones are off to a side).