Well, I will try to catch everyone up and I will hope that this will post in its entirety.
On Wednesday, the 26th of November I celebrated completing the 10 week training and officially became a Peace Corps Volunteer. Here is the story of the second half of our pre-service training.
I returned from my volunteer visit to Linguere with enthusiasm to learn my language, purpose, and a desire to want to live the Djolof life for the next two years. My visit was fulfilling and relaxing and I enjoyed hearing of the stories of others about their experience; which varied greatly from wonderful to boring to disappointing to embarrassing to full of parasites and sickness. When we returned we had a few more days at the training center in Thies doing government powerpoints and technical training before heading back to our Community Based Training (CBT) families. There was a large shift in many of us during the 4 days or so back at the center. We were all motivated to go back to CBT either because we were embarrassed by our language inadequacy at site or motivated to be the very best we could be or because some of us formed such tight bonds with their CBT families over just a few weeks that they were much more comfortable there only understanding a quarter of what was being said than to be with 55 people from the states that they could communicate fine with but didn't have the same bonds with. Personally, I was motivated to learn more and I was ready for things to slow down.
I returned to CBT with the most focus I had had since being in Senegal. I wrote every Pulaar verb I knew in a fresh notebook and worked to conjugate them in as many tenses as I could, I created flash cards of those verbs and technical vocabulary, and I worked hard to seek out conversation where I could speak more Pulaar.
I arrived about 11AM in the morning on my first day back at CBT. I greeted my family and put my bags in my room and came out to talk more with my CBT father Thierno about my trip to Linguere. He listened to me and then quickly told me that my uncle, Sidy, was being married that afternoon and that I would not be able to go to school. Due to my lack of language, I called Oumar, my language teacher, who confirmed what I had thought I had heard and then invited them to come and join me. I left to go unpack and get settled in and in the short time that it took to unpack two backpacks of clothes my house had begun to fill up with relatives from Dakar and Thies and Nguekhokh who all spoke fast whether it was in Pulaar or Wolof; I couldn't tell you at the time which one it was but I can say that it was not English and it was not slow. I was greeted by almost everyone and I introduced myself and then I made simple sentences once explained what the questions were of me and I stared at people and laughed at myself. I sat with my family, my huge family, for about 4 hours until my Dad told me to take a shower and put on my nice clothes. I obliged and once out was quickly put into a car with 4 other men and driven across town. We stopped and went into a small compound, greeted everyone, and then were guided out and a couple of blocks down the street. My Dad looked at me and told me to take a seat while the men prayed. I sat down in front of a concrete building and soon cars came driving up and groups of men started walking down the road and kids came around and started playing football; and I sat in front of a small mosque and greeted all of the men that entered like I was the greeter at the church. This was the wedding. The men met and discussed and prayed and they gave gifts and the women brought juice and bignets for the guests and they prayed again and I sat ,not quite knowing if I was supposed to do anything, so I sat as good as I could and I greeted everyone that came by with smiles but probably a bit of surprise behind both of our smiles. Once everything had concluded, I was once again put in a car to another unknown location where I was given a chair and sat in a large circle with all of the men that I had been greeting, later I found out that it was the house of the bride. Again all was begun with a prayer, and then many men went around to speak finishing with the father of the bride giving a long talk to my Dad, because my uncle Sidy's father was deceased, in Wolof, I didn't understand the words but seemed to be praise and appreciation for our family. I have to say that I was quite proud to be sitting there with this prestigious man talking to us with great respect. After a while we ended with prayer and I was once again loaded into a vehicle to go home. I was looking forward to the ability to settle in and rest a bit before I was bombarded with more unknown, but my house was still full of family and we were joined all the men from the bride's house. Here there were speeches and prayers and greetings again and then as a storm in Tennessee it went from chaos to calm. All that remained was a small group of men from my family who sat around on the road with just a cool breeze and a civil conversation at a decent speed. I was happy to be able to hear Pulaar and sit relaxed but I was tired. I asked my Dad if I could go and take a shower and change clothes, but my night wasn't even close to being over. He informed me that there was going to be a dinner soon and that I would attend and then I could be relax. So we sat for a while and then a little bit more and then we loaded up into a car and went to a remote house I had never been to and we sat some more and the other men drank coffee and we continued to sit. At about 11PM headlights started to pop up over the concrete wall and people started to enter and introductions became more frequent and then a group of women with bowls of food and then we were called to eat. We sat down around a bowl on the floor of couscous and sheep and we stuffed ourselves until we could barely stand and then we went home. It wasn't my first Senegalese wedding, but it was my first real sight of the workings of one. I saw my uncle Sidy the next day. We greeted and then he put all of his things and that of his wife in a taxi that headed for Dakar. After that my CBT stay slowed down significantly.
2 weeks at CBT came and went quickly. I celebrated the Islamic New Year with our extended family and I had really nice ups were I was happy and learning and thought I was doing well and I had some real disappointing times when I was frustrated with myself and others and tired and isolated. With the help of my Language teacher Oumar and talking with my friends and just letting some things go I survived with my sanity mostly intact and headed back to Thies on a large white bus with 25 other volunteers ready to go and drink a beer and worried about evaluations that would occur until we finished our training. Thies was a similar site as it had been. We had exams about security and agriculture and health and composure, and we gave presentations in English and Pulaar about agriculture and cultural misunderstanding and about desertification and about school gardens. Then, we headed back to CBT to prepare for our final Language proficiency interview (LPI), where trainees struggle the most and stress the most and sometimes sends people home before being a volunteer. My final day at CBT I was given my own plate of food for dinner with my own fish and my own carrot and my own cabbage. I assumed others would join but only my grandmother sat next to me in order to pull the meat from the fish and throw it in front of me, I felt like a king, a very fat king. I was fed another large meal the next day for breakfast and then my dad and I walked down the road with my things to say final goodbyes and go catch the bus. Once we picked up Oumar and Alicia we headed to the road with 8 children and three adults escorting us and carrying our things. The site was memorable.
The day of the LPI the center was full of people pacing around awaiting their turn to talk for 20 minutes answering and asking questions in ways that proved that they had sufficient understanding of their language that they could survive and build. There was anxiety everywhere. My LPI was stressful and hard, but it was one of the best conversations I had had in Pulaar to date. I left with a good feeling and then awaited the 5 other Pulaar du Nords that I had become close with and understood the same struggles as myself. There was universal unknown following and nerves were high across the board, but we were able to relax the rest of the day while our language instructors met to discuss our ability to work for two years, that afternoon my friend and language instructor Oumar informed me that all of us had passed. To say the least we were all very relieved. Not all were so fortunate as the 6 of us.
With nothing else in our way we all gathered in a beautiful building in Thies with the US ambassador and all the political figures of Thies and all of the staff from Peace Corps Senegal in Dakar to make it official. Most of us were dressed in outfits that had been custom tailored for the event and made of fabric that ranged from tie dye to peacocks, I wore my same old comci that I had always worn which the Senegalese love but makes me look like I am going to bed. We piled in tight with members from our CBT family and everyone in our group, listened to presentations in French for over an hour and then presentations from 4 brave souls from our group in their new language, and then we stood and raised our right hands and pledged to serve the best that we could to help the development of Senegal without any desire to take advantage of the situation. Everything became official and then we ate, took pictures, a lot of pictures, and we danced, not so much, and then headed back to the training center to prepare for a trip to the beach for 3 days.
The beach was the beach. There was drinking, and there was swimming, and there wasn't much rest, and there were photos like any other trip to the beach, but the note worthy part was that this trip fell during Thanksgiving and there was a plan to do Thanksgiving Senegalese style. Accompanying us to the beach were two turkeys not excited at all about going and enough potatoes, squash, apples, and other food items to do Thanksgiving for 60 people in a land that does not cater to roasted turkey dinners and cranberry sauce. When the time came we all sat on mats in the living room of our house and shared bowls of turkey slaughtered that morning and cooked on spits over charcoal, squash, mashed potatoes, gravy, and stuffing with our hands and ripping apart the turkey and throwing it in front of everyone around our bowls. When we were done stuffing ourselves, bowls were taken away and more bowls were brought out containing pumpkin bignets with apple sauce. To conclude the meal our PCV chef Jake came out when demanded to speak and thanked everyone. It was a dinner to be remembered and greatly enjoyed.
When the buses arrived to take us back to Thies, everyone was exhausted and sun baked and dehydrated. We all piled in and slept or tried to sleep on the hour ride back. Once back we assembled and took care of some necessities and then ran to town to utilize the nice stores in Thies before going to our remote sites and limited shopping opportunities for at least a month or so. We went and ate good food did some shopping and returned to the center to pack our dirty and disorganized gear for a 7AM departure to our regional capitals. The next morning I awoke to about 20 Peugeot station wagons piled into the training center. We got each other's phone numbers and we took pictures and we piled our vehicles with way too many things until they spilled out onto our laps and below our feet and unhappy drivers and we headed out to not see one another for 2 months. Our driver was especially unhappy due to the load of Meg, Sara, and I. We headed out as the sun was rising through the palms and the baobab trees, we stopped twice by police, we stopped once to fix the transmission with a piece of bailing wire, and we arrived in Linguere tired and sweaty and relieved and scared and maybe a bit excited, but not much.
Now it is Tuesday afternoon here. I am worried if anyone will read to this point due to it's size and wondering if I should break the post into chapters. I have been in Linguere for a few days now buying tools and supplies and trying to think of everything I might ever need and realizing they are all wants. We have been making good meals together and playing cards and enjoying our company and getting to know the town. This morning Meg and Sara bravely loaded their things into our Peace Corps vehicle and went to begin their journey. I go tomorrow. I have spent the last few days doing too much thinking but afraid of doing. Afraid of not knowing a language everyone speaks and not having anywhere to run when I can't understand anyone and they can't understand me, but as we helped Sara to settle in I realized that I was excited and I was wishing that it was I who had installed today. I have been here for long enough. It is time that I started to do something toward my purpose here. To start sharing.
I go tomorrow for what I hope will be 5 weeks. We are given a challenge to stay at site for 5 week and fight through the problems that we have. This means Christmas and New Years will be spent with people that don't celebrate either of those. It means little cell service and no internet and no electricity, but it means beautiful skies and calm and new faces. A gentle rain is beginning here and I don't think is supposed to but I am taking it as a good omen and blessing for the next two years.
