When I last wrote a blog post I had just learned what site I would be going to when my pre-service training ended. I had just learned I would be going to Nianghe, a small village of around 300 near Bandafassi in the region of Kedougou. While at the time it seemed like an eternity away, the time has come and passed, and I am now a sworn-in Peace Corps Volunteer. When I last wrote I was imagining what Kedougou would be like, and as I write this I sit in the regional house of that town.
Needless to say, a lot has happened over the past month. Though I could write entire blog entries about all the things that have happened (and at the time I'd planned to), it seems more fitting in my current mindset to simply recount some of the more interesting experiences of the last month.
The first event that really stands out is our volunteer visit. This is a time when every trainee takes a trip of around 5 days to their future sites. This meant that I and the other four Kedougou volunteers would be traveling down to visit our sites. However, since Kedougou is one of the furthest regions from Thies we had to leave at 6AM. I'm not sure how well you know my morning habits, but it would be safe to say that I wouldn't be considered a morning person. Thus groggily I arose at 5:45 less tired than I was excited to see where I would be living for two years. The trip down took only 9 and a half hours, which meant we made great time. Our peace corps driver Idrissa is quite the speed-demon. As I drowsed in and out of sleep I saw the Senegalese countryside change from brown and sandy to slightly less brown and sandy. An interesting fact about the road from Thies to Kedougou is that it goes straight through a national park (that is also a UNESCO world heritage site) between Tambacounda and Kedougou. This is about 2 hours out of Kedougou proper. The second we entered the park we saw warthogs and baboons and all other sorts of monkeys. While this was still sinking in we drove over the verdant Gambia River. It was then that I knew I was no longer in the desert.
As we got closer and closer to Kedougou where there was once brown shrublands and sand there was now green shrubland and trees. The flat elevation rose to rolling hills. And all at once we were at the end of the road, entering Kedougou and arriving at the regional house.
The storage center of the regional house
I have been at the regional house for the last few days and I thought it would be an interesting place to talk about. The Kedougou regional house has one of the most unique feels of any place I've ever been to. If I had to describe it, it would be a frat house meets a summer camp. All the volunteers here are very welcoming and cool people. So the regional house isn't really a house; it's a series of huts. Here is the sleeping hut:
It's actually called the "Disco Hut"
Please note the Bassari style roof thatching, as opposed to the Pular style which is apparently inferior. I guess I haven't provided a picture of the Pular style to compare it, but just imagine this hut with thatch that doesnt look quite as good. We also have an extensive library:
Apparently there were some Hawaiians who dropped by
My actual site visit was amazing. I'm not sure if you remember from my previous post, but in Senegal there is a tradition of having a joking relationship with people of a certain last name. As a Diallo up to this point, I have a joking relationship with the Ba's. I could say something like "ko honto woni be'i an? Hari o wujji be" (I think this means "Where are my sheep? You must have stolen them", of course my Pullo Fuuta isn't great so it could mean something else). In my stage there are two other girls who are Ba's, and I've been making fun of them for most of PST. Well, when I arrived in Nianghe I learned that of the 300 people there, half of them are Diallos and the other half are Bas. Like, no joke. It's the most hilarious thing. They literally spend the whole day making fun of each other over odd things like sucking roots or stealing mangos. In the spirit of this they decided to give me a new name. This is done in a ceremony called a "denabo", or a baby naming ceremony. Everything was going well until they had to actually chose a name for me. Half of them wanted me to be a Diallo, the other half wanted me to be a Ba. It got rather heated. Understandably, being a Diallo up until this point I secretly wanted them to name me a Diallo, but I had no say in the matter. After a while of uncertainty they called the village Imam over. He then gave a lengthy speech and gave me the name Hammidy Ba. That's right, I'm a Ba now. It's like a little piece of me died.
An amusing note about the Denabo: it's supposed to be for babies. There are specific prayers you say when performing a Denabo. I was wondering why my volunteer host was trying not to crack up during the prayers, and I only learned after that it was because the whole time the Imam was calling me a baby. Things like "may Allah bless this little baby, born here only weeks ago. When he grows hair may he become big and strong".
Another interesting story from my visit to Kedougou: We were walking through town to get some hamburgers (yes, the regional capital has just about anything you could need), when all of a sudden we saw a large procession going through. It was obviously some sort of celebration. As we walked on we saw men dressed up in grass shirts and wooden masks and carrying bamboo sticks walking with the procession. My volunteer host says
"oh shoot, these guys are gonna hit us".
I was confused at this statement, as the bamboo armed men approached.
"yeah, you gotta dodge these guys, those sticks really hurt"
I manage to get away from all of them, but one of them clearly caught eye of my volunteer host, something that wasn't hard to do since he's white... and we're in Africa. He lifted up his bamboo bludgeon, pointing it at my host like Babe Ruth calling his next shot. Though he dodge, the stick was too fast. Anyway, I learned after than apparently these men are traditional parts of celebrations and they drive out evil spirits from people by whacking them with sticks.
The next eventful... event of my pre-service training was the Popenguine weekend. POPENGUINE!!! It was fun, we swam, sat on rocks, look at my facebook photos.
Next was the counterpart workshop. It was intimidating.
If my writing gets more brisk, or perchance more pedestrian, I apologize. I'm getting tired of writing, but the show must go on I suppose.
As the weeks flew by, the end of my CBT approached. CBT was the time where I lived with a host family near Thies and they helped me learn the language. It was an odd sensation. For the last 2 months I had been living with this family and slowly getting to know them as my language improved; but just as I was getting to truly know them I would have to go. It was a struggle at times, but my CBT family were always inviting, welcoming, just all in all good people:
looking sharp
I am going to miss my CBT family. Also, I am going to miss the food. It was seriously amazing. As an example here is one of my favorite dishes. It's rice and fish balls and carrots and stuff. The fish balls are like meatballs, they really are delicious
mmm fish balls
So here I am now. In the regional house in Kedougou. Tomorrow morning I go to my site to begin my life there for 2 years. It is exciting and terrifying. I've heard that it's a formative experience standing in your village, watching the peace corps car drive away, and thinking "now I truly am on my own".
This is the best post ever!
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