After the Sunset

It’s been almost two months since I left Senegal as a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, and a final wrap-up post of some kind seems long overdue.

For some people, serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer is a childhood dream, infused with the same sort of magic and optimism usually associated with moon-landings and spiritual quests. That was not the case for me; I became a PCV because professionally and personally it seemed like my best option at the time, and because my application went through so quickly I didn't have much time to start job-searching. Nevertheless, it turned out to be a valuable and challenging experience. With the exception of my relatively unhappy Mephaquin stint, throughout my service I felt like I was putting most all of my previous endeavors and experiences to use – backpacking at Camp Unalayee was excellent preparation for rural life; studying French and Art and International Studies and Global Health all turned out to be quite helpful; working with small children was good practice for dealing with irrational drivers and cranky bureaucrats; working at a bookstore was great preparation for being broke. In addition to feeling well-prepared, I was very, very lucky in a number of important ways – with my site, with my health, with my host family, with my PCV neighbors, with a wonderful World Wise Schools correspondence match, and with having supportive friends and family back home. Many thanks all around! 

Now, after what was quite possibly the best vacation ever, I am in Conakry, Guinea, preparing to start a Peace Corps Response position. If you’re interested, my new Guinea-focused blog is called The Kankan Express ("kahn-kahn") and will be doing my best to keep it up-to-date.

Whether you’ve just skimmed a few photos or have been following my adventures with intense scrutiny, thank you for reading, and I hope you found it worthwhile. Merci beaucoup et à la prochaine! 

West African Sunset 

The True American Rainbow

There is a television show called New Girl, and on that show they play a game called True American. The Peace Corps Volunteers of Kédougou have talked about playing the game in real life several times, imagining how we could add in our own rules, quotes, and trivia.

Having already bade farewell to Digital Ben and the songwriter, phenologist, and re-birthed living legend Patrick Hair, the PCVs of Kédougou gathered on the occasion of the imminent departure of Marielle, Martin, Ian, and myself and actually played True American. We cooked garlic bread and Bucket Soup, made mojios and pesto pizza, combed the market and the Free Box for the appropriate attire, dressed up like a rainbow (because why not), and they showed themselves to be as True Americans as there ever were.

After the abject heartbreak of leaving Salémata, True American Rainbow brought some much-needed levity to my week of good-byes. We managed to cover the whole spectrum - Reds, Oranges, Gold, Yellow, Greens, Teal, Blues, Sparkles, Pinks, Purples, Plaid, and Gray.

 

Complementary Colors! 

The Crayola Fun Pack

At the Start of the Rainbow

Basically, playing the game involved dressing up, hopping from base to base (the ground is molten lava), calling out silly trivia questions and quotes, and switching clothing items in order to finish the game wearing as many colors of the rainbow as possible. It was fun and funny, and, as always, it was great to spend some quality time with the 'Gou Crew.

These are the people who've been there when all the tires went flat, when the ATM didn't work, and when my Sriracha ran out. They got the baignoire tubs out when it was too hot to live, fixed my bike when the gears got mangled, commiserated when work was going disastrously, and lent me a hair brush when I didn't have one (which was always). They've bush-messaged me Malarone, interpreted my dreams, put up with my affinity for confusing picture-messages, and made up songs about the terrible roads that leave us over-jostled and caked with orange dust. They've cooked Spanish omelettes, baked birthday cakes and pizzas and Ghirardelli double-fudge brownies and brewed countless French presses of hot coffee. When I lost my phone for the umpteenth time they called it, and laughed good-naturedly when it inevitably turned up my pocket. They've shared their M&Ms and their diarrhea stories and their huts and their palm wine and their fancy cheese. They took pictures of my rashes and forgave my irritability and taken team costumes to a whole new level. When I got sick they left Ricola in my basket, when I was away they greeted my host family, and when my American family came to visit they showed them a epic good time.

At the End of the Rainbow

I'll see some of the 'Gou Crew in the not-so distant future (inchallah) and in the meantime I'm grateful to have been a part of such a fun, brilliant, ridiculous, generous, beautiful, motivated group of True Americans. I'll miss them collectively as well as one by one, and I'll think of them every time I eat Pumpkin Spice, take a garlic shot, see a gold star, catch a glimpse of Cinderella, make bagel, hear a real nice chant, read a sexy book, sing my way down a river, throw it in the fan, eat too many beignets, count the birds in my backyard, or see a rainbow breaking through the clouds. 

End of an Era

With PCVs from my training group already heading back to America, the good-bye phase of my service in Senegal has started. I feel like it began in earnest in Dakar, the day I went to a fish-and-rice place known as the USAID Ceeb Shack (ceeb, pronouced “cheb,” means “rice” in Wolof) with PCVs Nic, Ivy, Marielle, Kayla and Annē. The USAID Ceeb Shack, located right by the Ngor beach and the USAID Dakar office, is renowned for friendly service and really good food, and only charges 800-900 fCFA (about $1.50) a plate. On any given day they’ll offer several choices, such as fish and red rice, fish and yellow rice, steamed rice with peanut sauce, onion sauce, okra-and-palm-oil sauce, tangy orange domeda sauce, or my personal favorite, chicken and wheat cous cous. I meant to take pictures of everyone’s plates when they arrived, but in our hunger and haste I forgot until everyone had eaten pretty much everything.

Though Nic and Ivy weren't actually flying out for several more weeks, Marielle and I were about to head back down to Kédougou and we knew it was the last day that we’d see Nic and Ivy in Senegal. There are more and more of those oh-this-is-the-last-time-I’ll-see-you moments, but adding the caveat “in Senegal” does take the edge off. It’s great to feel like we've all made it through our service, like we've all accomplished something together, and even though everyone’s going their separate ways it’s good to see people headed off to do interesting things. 

To-Do

My training group and I had our Close-of-Service (COS) conference last week and I now I have an official COS date (May 1st, 2013!)  and a long list of things that I have to get done before then. With the latrine project wrapping up nicely I can turn my attention to helping run a Maternal & Child Health training, helping to facilitate another visit from the PeaceCare team, participating in the Kedougou Youth Leadership Camp, and handing off my various Peace Corps-related responsibilities.

The Maternal Health training was supposed to happen last November, but there were some... perturbations... during the whole grant-processing  procedure and things didn't quite pan out as planned, but the midwives and Health Center staff are enthusiastic and I'm hopeful that the training will happen in early March so that I won't have to pass it on to my replacement, who will be arriving in early May. I'm looking forward to PeaceCare's visit (cryotherapy training for local health professionals! How can you not be looking forward to that?) and of course, pretty much everyone knows how much I love camp, so that'll be great, too.

It's shaping up to be an exceptionally busy few weeks, but as hectic as it's shaping up to be, I am glad that I'll be busy.

I'm hoping that all the work will help keep me from dwelling on how sad I'll be to leave my host family and my friends here and from fretting about the somewhat intimidating prospect of returning to America. (So big! So expensive! So fancy! So many options for everything!) I'm definitely going to miss Mariama Kesso and her daughter Fatou (above - she's getting so big!). I will miss the kids (Sajou, Tijane, Mankaba, and Diabou, below left) who like to come by my hut in the afternoons (and some mornings, and most evenings) to color and practice counting and insist that I look at whatever they happen to be doing. I might miss Diabou (below right, with marker on her face) most of all. She was the last of the kids to warm up to me, she doesn't talk much, and one time she accidentally peed on my floor, but she's also funny and tenacious and always comes over to offer me peanuts and to help me sweep out my hut. She's a good little friend.

Thoughts on Justice

At the end of September we had to deal with the legal follow-up for a security incident involving a PCV over the summer. Even as a bystander it was an extremely aggravating and profoundly disappointing experience in many ways. However, throughout the entire ordeal I was awed by the courage and resilience of the affected PCV and absolutely impressed by the unwavering support, encouragement, and tenacious advocacy coming from the surrounding volunteers. Also, once she got involved, the Peace Corps Victim's Advocate in D.C. was very responsive and helped get things moving in the right direction.

One of the most depressing aspects of the experience was reflecting on how insanely difficult it would be for a wronged Senegalese person to pursue justice. Even though the incident happened in Kédougou, all of the legal proceedings happened in Tamba (a four-to-eight hour drive, depending on what village you’re coming from) because the Region of Kédougou has no court system of its own. All proceedings were in French, which would be problematic for all the villagers who only speak Pulaar, Malinké, or other local languages. Most of the officials at the trial were dismissive; it seemed like it was only the absurd insistence of the American volunteers and the perceived weight of United States Government behind them that kept the convicted perpetrator from being immediately released despite having been sentenced to a correctional facility. 

I cannot imagine how difficult it would be for a person from a village, especially a woman, to marshal the resources necessary to press charges, travel to a trial, and see that a sentence was carried out. The most crushingly awful thing that I kept hearing - even from some of the Senegalese legal officials! - was that “this is Africa and you must accept that the system does not work here.”  I will be forever grateful to the Americans who did not accept, and to the Senegalese official who made a few calls to help see that justice would be, albeit somewhat grudgingly, served. Also, more than ever, I am aware that I have had such unfathomable good fortune, to be raised with the belief that justice is attainable, that change is possible, and that people have the power to improve the world, if only one small corner of it.