Fatoumata Bineta Souare

While I was away in Thiès and Saraya last month, my youngest host mom, Kade, had her third baby. I knew she was pregnant but hadn't realized that she was that far along, and was disappointed that I missed the baptism. Of course, I still brought some baby gifts over to her hut - a soft blanket, some fancy soap, a pretty new shirt, and a baby outfit in a little purple bag – and she told me that she’d wanted to name the baby after my mother in America, but when she was visiting everyone just called her “Neene Adama,” literally “Adama’s mom,” and so no one was completely sure how to pronounce or write her actual name, so they named the baby Fatoumata Bineta instead. Maybe next time, though, if she has another daughter.

(Father Sadat and big sister Diabou; new baby girl Fatoumata Bineta; mother Kade)

Bows & Arrows

While he was visiting my village my brother and I walked over to the market area and on our way back we saw some boys playing under the trees. I thought "Huh, it looks like they're shooting arrows in the air." As it happened, that was indeed what they were doing. Not real arrows with tips or anything, just little stick bows and little arrow sticks and bits of cloth or twine as a drawstring. 

They were all cheerful and super proud of their bows, so we reminded them to be careful (wouldn't want to put an eye out, after all) and then obliged them and took some pictures, which they immediately viewed and declared to be very very nice. (Made me I wish I had a bigger screen on my digital camera.)

Once I get back to America I'll develop these photos, along with a whole bunch of other ones (it is excessively costly to develop photos here) and then send them to my village care of one of the other PCVs in the region. It's odd, to think that I'll be leaving here in a few short months, but it's reassuring to remember that there will still be volunteers around - my replacement, my PCV neighbors - to pass on letters and photos and greet the family. 

Winter Morning Delivery

Last week the last of the materials (the PVC pipes for ventilation) were delivered to my host fmaily's compound. The truck showed up really early - I had just woken up and was still sitting around my hut, wearing my warm socks and waiting for water to heat up when I heard it rumbling up the path. 

PVC pipes being delivered

I was happy to see them being unloaded and got out my camera to document the occasion, so of course the little kids (who are always up early and full of energy) bounded over, as much to gawk at the truck as to pester me for pictures. I complied, even though I hadn't had any coffee yet. Mankaba took a dozen pictures, mostly of his feet, but also of me and Sajou, and of my arm and Sajou and Daouda. Then Daouda took about a dozen photos of the back of Mankaba's head and then Mankaba told him to stop it and then I said "Ok, that's enough." and padded back to my hut for breakfast and to get properly dressed.

"Ok, that's enough, give it back now."

Hope!

This is the calendar I have in my hut, and that is a close-up of the Obama button that my mom sent my awhile back. I was so relieved when I heard that Obama won. So relieved. 

I was relieved, because, for a whole smorgasbord of reasons, I really, truly believe that Obama was the better person for the job. 

Also, because I really didn't want to have to have a lot of conversations in which I tried to explain why America had voted for the other guy (as he's usually referred to here) instead of Obama. (It would have been studying abroad during the Bush Administration all over again.)

Instead I got to spend the day after the election getting congratulated like I'd personally cast the deciding vote or something. Sometimes people would tentatively ask if I was happy about the election, sussing out my political orientation before saying anything potentially inflammatory, which I think was really nice of them. Once I'd identified myself as an Obama supporter they'd shake my hand and grin and talk about how nice it was that he'd won and I'd agree. 

Finally, someday, after I get back to America, Peace Corps will send me a certificate of appreciation bearing the President's signature and (whether or not it's actually hand-signed) I'm glad that that signature is going to be Obama's. 

Guavas!

Even when it isn't mango season there are still pretty great snacks to be had in my village. Lately we've been having a lot of late afternoon squash -- really lovely orange wedges of fresh, steamed squash. (I would have taken pictures but I was too busy eating.) Delicious. 

I've also been handed a decent number of limes and guavas lately; some people have lime trees and sometimes the kids just pick them out in the bush. As much as I love citrus I'm not a huge fan of eating limes all by themselves, but the guavas are pretty good. They smell amazing, but their flavor is usually really mild, and they can have a lot of seeds. Not bad overall, though. 

Guava Time

The Office Moat

This past week I spent a few days at the Thiès Training Center, helping with a few sessions during the latest training groups' In-Service Training (IST).

 

From there I headed over to Dakar, where I'm getting a few things done at the office (meetings, printing, reimbursements for rash-cream, etc) while I'm up here. While it's been lovely to have electricity pretty much all the time, warm showers at the transit house, and plentiful fruit vendors (Plums! Pears! Tangerines! Amazing!) I've also been reminded of why I'd much rather sit out rainy season in a little village than spend it Senegal's capital. 

The Moat: receding, but still very much present.

Dakar doesn't exactly have well-functioning sewers or an effective urban drainage system, so when there are heavy rains gutters overflow, raw sewage burbles up through access holes, and many streets are thoroughly awash with filthy, murky runoff water. Yesterday, after a heavy morning downpour, the water was so deep in parts of the Almadies neighborhood that taxis and other normal-type cars couldn't make it through the reach the main office and the main street by the transit house, where I was, briefly became a frothy river with a surprisingly swift current. Today the water has drained off, for the most part, leaving only the muddled pond that fills the road in front of the office for most of every rainy season here. We were able to get from place to place pretty well, carefully making our way around and over the filthy runoff puddles and streams in an impromptu little game of high-stakes hopscotch.