Mid-Service

I was just up in Dakar for my mid-service medical appointments. About a year into service PCVs are supposed to come up to Med to have a check up with a doctor, a cleaning and x-rays at the dentist, and a tuberculosis test. Depending on what the PCV needs they'll also do a Pap smear, HIV and STI tests, MIF (stool sample) kit analysis, and tests for various parasite problems, such as schistosomiasis, a sort of snail-worm infection. Schisto, as we like to call it, is a neglected tropical disease (NTDs; they're horrible but fascinating) and is very common in my region. 

My check-up was pretty brief and boring; other than strep throat, switching off Mephaquin, a few relatively minor bouts of diarrhea and vomiting, I haven't really had any significant medical problems so far. (Knock on wood.) My schisto results haven't come back yet, but I don't have any cavities or tooth-problems (yay!) and my TB-exposure test was as negative as they come. The dental cleaning is a little odd, mostly because the dentist (a cheerful older Moroccan man) doesn't do things like give you a free travel-sized tube of toothpaste or provide a lead apron during x-rays. In fact, he takes the x-rays while standing next to you, sometimes whole holding the little square of film in place against your teeth with his own hand. He also develops the x-ray films right there, rinsing the chemicals off right into his little lab sink. It's how I imagine American dentists did in the olden days when it was totally okay to use fluoroscopes for fun and have women hand-number clock faces with radium paint.

In any case, it was interesting and good to get all checked out. And totally bizarre that I'm already more than halfway through my service. How is it June 2012 already?

Work Etc

When I moved into a little mud hut fifty miles down a dirt road in the middle of Nowhere, West Africa,  I was expecting many things. Pulling water from wells. Keeping my knees covered. Extreme heat. I wasn't really expecting that there would be so many Excel charts involved. Volunteer Reporting Forms, surveys, spreadsheets, reports, project planning, funding paperwork... sometimes living en brousse is a lot like living in D.C., just without roll-y chairs or electricity during the day.

This is my hut. And also my office. 

This is my floor. And also my desk. 

If you're interested in what I do at the office, you're welcome to take a look at the Action Plan (English), the Plan d'Action (français), and the Salémata Baseline Assessment that I submitted after my observation period and baseline survey and all that.  Between other project opportunities coming up and all the interruptions that we're expecting around election time, it's hard to figure out what will actually happen when,  but it's nice to start with a plan. 

My First 100 Days

A few weeks ago I was listening to a podcast about a lady who wrote a book about Obama's mom, and it occurred to me that I was about to complete my first one hundred days in Senegal. Here are a few of the my early in-country achievements:

My language has advanced to the point where I can say "Hello Mother! I am going to with lunch Taki's friend here. There. There. I am going to lunch. Is not here, me, lunching. Lunch? To eat. With Taki from Etiolo. Friend of Taki house here. Ok? Thank you! Thank you much much much! At afternoon ok!"

All of the little kids in my neighborhood have stopped calling me "Toubab!" and started calling me "Adama!"

I built a little barrier at the base of my hut's back door so that the rat who has been digging a hole in my wall can't scamper in while I'm trying to enjoy my morning coffee.

I have established myself as the Resident Facepainter at the Regional House.

Diabou, the ten-month-old who was initially extremely suspicious about me as a person, has finally warmed up to me and now calls me "Ada!" and waves and gives me brisk little handshakes.

I new have a faint Chacos foot-tan and approximately two dozen new freckles, most of them on my ankles. 

Language Seminar

I just got back into Kédougou from a language seminar in Bandafassi, a village about 60 km from where I live in Salémata. Houssey, my Peace Corps Pulaar teacher, came down from Thiès, the other people from my training group came in from their villages, and we all had three days of semi-formal language class. PCV Patrick hosted us, (and he really was a very, very gracious host) we went on a nice hike up to a Bedik village in the hills above Bandafassi and his host sister cooked some fantastic lunches.

Just to give you an idea of where all things are happening, Salémata is the "A" on this map, and Bandafassi is the "B," the city of Kédougou is "C," and Dakar (where all the political protests and everything were happening last week) is "D."

In case you were wondering, it takes about two days to get from Salémata to Dakar, so I'm a long ways off from any of the protests, and even when things get hectic in Dakar nothing really happens in the village, which is nice.

PHOTOS: Bandafassi Language Seminar 

I Love Panoramas.

This is the view of the main cooking/eating/lounging area of the Souaré compound. My hut is off to the right. I spend a lot of time sitting around under this mango tree, smiling at people and trying to keep up with conversations. (Which is still really hard, and pretty tiring mentally, so I also tend to spend a lot of time zoning out and watching the chickens and goats running around getting into things.) For the first week or so I would sit around here with my host moms and drink the super-sweet tea that is so popular in Senegal, but I started to worry about my teeth melting from so much exposure to what is basically hot sugar syrup (also it kinda gives me a stomachache most of the time) so now I just sit around, shelling peanuts and pointing at the goats and saying goats! and so on.

Below is the closest well to my house. I am not so great at sloshing the bucket around to get it to fill up in an efficient way (also I don't have my own bucket on a rope and don't like having to go around asking to borrow one even though no one would mind at all) so I walk to the forage pump on other side of the field, at the elementary school, and pump my water there.

I generally pump one or two 15-liter buckets of water every day in village. I use a bucket with a lid, and I fill it up, strap it to the back of my bike, and ride/walk it back across the field and up the little hill to my hut. Even though most women (and many children) pull and haul a lot more water than that, a lot farther than that, and without the assistance of a bike, everyone clucks and says I am très brave to be fetching water all by myself.

Teeth.

So today I am in Dakar because I had a dentist appointment, and it went really well. Last week I bit down hard on a little rock that was mixed in with the rice and fish and veggie bits, and my tooth has been slightly sore ever since. It seemed like a good idea to have someone take a look at it before I install in Salémata, since from there it's a two-day trek to get back up to Dakar and the Peace Corps dentist.

Luckily, the dentist took a look, tapped around a bit and told me that my tooth had taken a big shock (with the enormous power of the jaws) and that the ligament had a little inflammation, but as long as I leave it to rest for awhile it should be fine. He put some cinnamon-tasting stuff on it, told me to have a bonne installation, and sent me on my way, much reassured.