In order to cap off these reflections and my experience in Senegal, it is only appropriate to make connections and write down some of my final reflections. Out of all the classes I took, papers I read, and places I saw, the most important and impressionable part of Senegal was the people. It is these people that took me into their homes and treated me like family; these people who taught me their language and their culture; these people that excepted me as a part of their village and community; these people who taught me more about myself than I ever expected; these people with who I laughed and cried, hugged and fought. I cannot say that I have ever met a more welcoming, fun, and loving people. I ate with them, drank tea with them, slept next to them, and worked with them. I became close with them. I fell in love with them.
Of course there were personal and cultural challenges along the way. But in the end, I came out stronger and closer to all of the people I love. I was having a mentally and emotionally intense time towards the end of my stay in Senegal. It was wonderful how everyone rallied around me, doing all that they could to help me and give me love. I have made lifelong friends and family in Senegal, and I will never, never forget them. Just today I was chatting with Medoune (my host brother) and Namory via facebook. I couldn’t stop smiling and laughing. We were communicating in English, French, and Wolof. It was truly cross-cultural and international. But it was also simply friends to friends, person to person; sharing cultures, sharing ideas, sharing friendship. I never thought that I would experience anything like it. I want to thank everyone for everything that they have done for me. I hope to come back soon.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Bibliography in order to not plagarize
And since I did use sources I think I should put the bibliography.
Bibliography
Zehrer, Wolfram. Integrated Pest Management in the Tropics. “Traditional Agriculture and integrated pest management.”
Sachs, Jeffery. The Guardian. “Traditional agriculture equals poverty.” 2008.
Traditional Agriculture: Overview. http://dp.biology.dal.ca/reports/kazimirstt.html
Mollison, Bill. Introduction to Permaculture. 1991.
Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed.
Interview with Mr. Sy in Guédé Chantiers. April 19, 2009.
Interview with Ousmane Pame.
Interview with Mr. Fall in Guédé Chantiers.
Bibliography
Zehrer, Wolfram. Integrated Pest Management in the Tropics. “Traditional Agriculture and integrated pest management.”
Sachs, Jeffery. The Guardian. “Traditional agriculture equals poverty.” 2008.
Traditional Agriculture: Overview. http://dp.biology.dal.ca/reports/kazimirstt.html
Mollison, Bill. Introduction to Permaculture. 1991.
Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed.
Interview with Mr. Sy in Guédé Chantiers. April 19, 2009.
Interview with Ousmane Pame.
Interview with Mr. Fall in Guédé Chantiers.
And finally the SOLUTION to the conflict
(Exert from my independent research paper)
Nonetheless, I do recognize that global patterns are shifting (growing population and growing percentage of urban population) regardless if the changes are beneficial. Thus, traditional agriculture is becoming harder and harder to maintain and justify (its productivity is generally just enough to meet the nutritional needs of the local, rural population) (Sachs). But on the other hand, industrial agriculture takes the completely opposite approach to traditional agriculture and has its multitude of negative consequences (Traditional Agriculture: Overview). There has to be a solution for an agricultural system that can produce very high yields, but at the same time is beneficial for the land and the people. I propose that permaculture principles can be used and applied as the solution to the problem at hand.
Not only is permaculture intensively productive, it gives the land a sort of permanence. This is because permaculture invests in the land for the long term, unlike industrial agriculture. You can grow a lot on a small piece of land in a permaculture system for multiple reasons. These reasons include crop stacking (which create shade and microclimates, thus reducing the need for intensive water use—it also places a large variety of plants in a small area, mimicking nature and thus preventing crop destruction from insects and disease); using local crop varieties for disease/insect resistance and reducing water input, crop rotation, perpetual improvement of the soil with the utilization of cover crops and compost, the strategic planting of productive trees that will not only increase the productivity of the land (stacking), but also add a permanence to the site that only long-living trees can give. With permaculture, you are able to harvest a variety of products throughout the year insuring economic sustainability (if one crop fails you can rely on other crops) (Mollison).
To me, a permaculture is the ideal solution for the problem of our current agricultural paradigm. This permaculture solution is supported by my personal experience with this paradigm in Guédé Chantiers. From what I learned traditional agriculture is more fundamental. It is grown on a subsistence basis and generally has little to no outside inputs. It relies on using the Earth’s natural systems of fertility and productivity without adding intensive human techniques. For example, in Guédé people have traditionally planted their crops on the banks of the river after the flooding of the rainy season. This provides natural fertility for their crops without having to provide outside inputs (Sy). Also, traditionally people in Guédé cultivated wild rice varieties. Therefore, the cultivated rice would perpetually cross with the wild rice, thus producing a high level of species diversity (Pame). On the flipside, industrial agriculture in Guédé is rampant and produces a very high yield of crops. However, farmers have become so dependent upon and exploited by chemical inputs that many of them end up using 9/10th of their profit to pay for the chemicals that they have used (Fall). Additionally, the health of the land and the people is decreased.
And thus, for our project in Guédé we decided to create a permaculture garden to begin to experiment with the possibilities of greatly improving the current agricultural paradigm. And I believe we succeeded. We showed the youth how to improve the fertility and consistency of the soil through the rysosphere method (See Field Research section of paper for an explanation); we demonstrated water conservation through the goutte-á-goutte method (See Field Research section of paper for an explanation); and we gave our plot an increased biological diversity through the creation of niches and microclimates by plant stacking and multi-cropping. And while this was all done on a very small, school garden scale, I believe that the same permaculture principles can be replicated and increased throughout Guédé in order to positively change the current agricultural paradigm. It is a long shot, but with the right sensitization, continuation, local realizations, and luck I believe that this is a real possibility for a brighter future not only for Guédé, but the entire world and its future development.
Nonetheless, I do recognize that global patterns are shifting (growing population and growing percentage of urban population) regardless if the changes are beneficial. Thus, traditional agriculture is becoming harder and harder to maintain and justify (its productivity is generally just enough to meet the nutritional needs of the local, rural population) (Sachs). But on the other hand, industrial agriculture takes the completely opposite approach to traditional agriculture and has its multitude of negative consequences (Traditional Agriculture: Overview). There has to be a solution for an agricultural system that can produce very high yields, but at the same time is beneficial for the land and the people. I propose that permaculture principles can be used and applied as the solution to the problem at hand.
Not only is permaculture intensively productive, it gives the land a sort of permanence. This is because permaculture invests in the land for the long term, unlike industrial agriculture. You can grow a lot on a small piece of land in a permaculture system for multiple reasons. These reasons include crop stacking (which create shade and microclimates, thus reducing the need for intensive water use—it also places a large variety of plants in a small area, mimicking nature and thus preventing crop destruction from insects and disease); using local crop varieties for disease/insect resistance and reducing water input, crop rotation, perpetual improvement of the soil with the utilization of cover crops and compost, the strategic planting of productive trees that will not only increase the productivity of the land (stacking), but also add a permanence to the site that only long-living trees can give. With permaculture, you are able to harvest a variety of products throughout the year insuring economic sustainability (if one crop fails you can rely on other crops) (Mollison).
To me, a permaculture is the ideal solution for the problem of our current agricultural paradigm. This permaculture solution is supported by my personal experience with this paradigm in Guédé Chantiers. From what I learned traditional agriculture is more fundamental. It is grown on a subsistence basis and generally has little to no outside inputs. It relies on using the Earth’s natural systems of fertility and productivity without adding intensive human techniques. For example, in Guédé people have traditionally planted their crops on the banks of the river after the flooding of the rainy season. This provides natural fertility for their crops without having to provide outside inputs (Sy). Also, traditionally people in Guédé cultivated wild rice varieties. Therefore, the cultivated rice would perpetually cross with the wild rice, thus producing a high level of species diversity (Pame). On the flipside, industrial agriculture in Guédé is rampant and produces a very high yield of crops. However, farmers have become so dependent upon and exploited by chemical inputs that many of them end up using 9/10th of their profit to pay for the chemicals that they have used (Fall). Additionally, the health of the land and the people is decreased.
And thus, for our project in Guédé we decided to create a permaculture garden to begin to experiment with the possibilities of greatly improving the current agricultural paradigm. And I believe we succeeded. We showed the youth how to improve the fertility and consistency of the soil through the rysosphere method (See Field Research section of paper for an explanation); we demonstrated water conservation through the goutte-á-goutte method (See Field Research section of paper for an explanation); and we gave our plot an increased biological diversity through the creation of niches and microclimates by plant stacking and multi-cropping. And while this was all done on a very small, school garden scale, I believe that the same permaculture principles can be replicated and increased throughout Guédé in order to positively change the current agricultural paradigm. It is a long shot, but with the right sensitization, continuation, local realizations, and luck I believe that this is a real possibility for a brighter future not only for Guédé, but the entire world and its future development.
Now a short discussion on Industrial Ag.
Once again, an exert from my independent research:
On the other hand, industrial agriculture is as recent as the last century. It uses powerful chemical inputs to replace the knowledge and wisdom that was produced over thousands of years by traditional agricultural systems (Traditional Agriculture: Overview). Industrial agriculture was developed with regard to money and world market systems—while it attempts to take care of the fundamental act of nourishing people (the objective of traditional agriculture), it is disillusioned by the prospects of profits (Pame). Because industrial agriculture has developed with world markets in mind, food has become much more commoditized than ever before (Sachs). When people commoditize food they lose respect for it as a basic need for human survival and exploitation results. Exploitation of the land and of people’s health through the application of chemical pesticides, chemical herbicides, chemical fertilizers, using large amounts of water, and using vast amounts of petroleum and petroleum-based products. Furthermore, while industrial agriculture can produce dramatically higher yields than traditional agriculture, it is also generally not well adapted to local conditions and therefore many problems occur (Traditional Agriculture: Overview). These problems include destruction of the environment, failure of crops, high costs of chemicals for local populations, and a lack of means to continue the buying and maintenance of chemicals and machinery after the group that introduces them leaves.
However, this conflict is by no means a simple issue. As mentioned above, industrial agriculture is the direct result of the development and spread of globalization and the world capitalist system of economics. Globalization is generally seen as something beneficial for developing countries. However, in actuality it is very detrimental and only binds the developing country into a relationship of power and exploitation where the oppressor (developed) always wins over the oppressed (developing) (Freire). In this paper, I argue that while industrial agriculture can rapidly produce high crop yields never before seen in the area of introduction, it is by no means a beneficial long term solution for a transitioning community.
On the other hand, industrial agriculture is as recent as the last century. It uses powerful chemical inputs to replace the knowledge and wisdom that was produced over thousands of years by traditional agricultural systems (Traditional Agriculture: Overview). Industrial agriculture was developed with regard to money and world market systems—while it attempts to take care of the fundamental act of nourishing people (the objective of traditional agriculture), it is disillusioned by the prospects of profits (Pame). Because industrial agriculture has developed with world markets in mind, food has become much more commoditized than ever before (Sachs). When people commoditize food they lose respect for it as a basic need for human survival and exploitation results. Exploitation of the land and of people’s health through the application of chemical pesticides, chemical herbicides, chemical fertilizers, using large amounts of water, and using vast amounts of petroleum and petroleum-based products. Furthermore, while industrial agriculture can produce dramatically higher yields than traditional agriculture, it is also generally not well adapted to local conditions and therefore many problems occur (Traditional Agriculture: Overview). These problems include destruction of the environment, failure of crops, high costs of chemicals for local populations, and a lack of means to continue the buying and maintenance of chemicals and machinery after the group that introduces them leaves.
However, this conflict is by no means a simple issue. As mentioned above, industrial agriculture is the direct result of the development and spread of globalization and the world capitalist system of economics. Globalization is generally seen as something beneficial for developing countries. However, in actuality it is very detrimental and only binds the developing country into a relationship of power and exploitation where the oppressor (developed) always wins over the oppressed (developing) (Freire). In this paper, I argue that while industrial agriculture can rapidly produce high crop yields never before seen in the area of introduction, it is by no means a beneficial long term solution for a transitioning community.
Traditional Ag in West Africa
This is an exert from my independent research. I adding it to give you guys some background on traditional agriculture in West Africa. Enjoy!!
Traditional agriculture in West Africa is comprised of many complicated and intricate systems (contrary to popular western belief), that have developed over millennia to a specific ecosystem. These systems produced a tremendous variety of domesticated crops and livestock and methods of farming. It is these systems of agriculture that have been able to sustain diverse cultures and civilizations for thousands of years up until the present day. Researchers are beginning to appreciate that many traditional farmers in West Africa are still practicing farming methods that are in balance with surrounding ecosystems, stable, sustainable and highly efficient. Farmers, who have been portrayed as ignorant and not adaptive, have actually been using very sophisticated agricultural methods for thousands of years (Traditional Agriculture: Overview).
However, in many countries in West Africa traditional methods are mostly seen as backward. An agricultural extension worker in West Africa, who wants to inform a visitor about his “impact” in the region, will show “model” farmers using fertilizers and pesticides, and planting new varieties in rows. Yet if the visitor goes to the extension worker’s own fields, he will be surprised at what he sees and conclude that the extension worker does not belong to the category of modern “model” farmers. The visitor will see that the extension worker is cultivating the same way as his ancestors and completely differently from what he is telling his farmers (Traditional agriculture and integrated pest management).
Plant protection is a good example of how traditional agriculture methods differ from the modern industrial methods. In traditional fallow systems, plant protection methods were first of all preventive methods. Elements of these preventative methods are: choice of varieties, choice of field, mixed cropping, crop rotation, selection of seed and planting methods, and storage. For example, the storage systems of crops are well adapted to the ecosystems. In the humid climate of southern Togo, traditionally small, open granaries are used for storing corn. This is done to achieve good ventilation for the wet-harvested corn. In northern Togo where the harvest of millet is dried in the field, the granaries are closed and made of loam and straw. Industrial styled projects trying to improve these storage systems have been utter failures because they insisted on using cement (cement turns out to be hygroscopic and does not isolate very well, causing an increase in storage pests and diseases). Furthermore, in place of toxic chemicals, farmers use neem leaves (natural pesticide) to mix with the stored crops. In northern Togo beans in storage are completely surrounded by sand in order to prevent damage from beetles (Traditional agriculture and integrated pest management).
Traditional agriculture in West Africa is comprised of many complicated and intricate systems (contrary to popular western belief), that have developed over millennia to a specific ecosystem. These systems produced a tremendous variety of domesticated crops and livestock and methods of farming. It is these systems of agriculture that have been able to sustain diverse cultures and civilizations for thousands of years up until the present day. Researchers are beginning to appreciate that many traditional farmers in West Africa are still practicing farming methods that are in balance with surrounding ecosystems, stable, sustainable and highly efficient. Farmers, who have been portrayed as ignorant and not adaptive, have actually been using very sophisticated agricultural methods for thousands of years (Traditional Agriculture: Overview).
However, in many countries in West Africa traditional methods are mostly seen as backward. An agricultural extension worker in West Africa, who wants to inform a visitor about his “impact” in the region, will show “model” farmers using fertilizers and pesticides, and planting new varieties in rows. Yet if the visitor goes to the extension worker’s own fields, he will be surprised at what he sees and conclude that the extension worker does not belong to the category of modern “model” farmers. The visitor will see that the extension worker is cultivating the same way as his ancestors and completely differently from what he is telling his farmers (Traditional agriculture and integrated pest management).
Plant protection is a good example of how traditional agriculture methods differ from the modern industrial methods. In traditional fallow systems, plant protection methods were first of all preventive methods. Elements of these preventative methods are: choice of varieties, choice of field, mixed cropping, crop rotation, selection of seed and planting methods, and storage. For example, the storage systems of crops are well adapted to the ecosystems. In the humid climate of southern Togo, traditionally small, open granaries are used for storing corn. This is done to achieve good ventilation for the wet-harvested corn. In northern Togo where the harvest of millet is dried in the field, the granaries are closed and made of loam and straw. Industrial styled projects trying to improve these storage systems have been utter failures because they insisted on using cement (cement turns out to be hygroscopic and does not isolate very well, causing an increase in storage pests and diseases). Furthermore, in place of toxic chemicals, farmers use neem leaves (natural pesticide) to mix with the stored crops. In northern Togo beans in storage are completely surrounded by sand in order to prevent damage from beetles (Traditional agriculture and integrated pest management).
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Lessons from Guede (The Village)
I learned an incredible amount about development, Senegal, people, and myself through our school garden project in Guédé. In life you need to be flexible. In development you need to be like silly putty. Silly putty in multiple ways. Silly putty because nothing is going to go as you originally thought. The direction of our project changed multiple times in unexpected and uncontrollable ways. Decisions were made and things were changed without our groups’ knowledge by village partners and staff within our program. This was a challenge at the time, but was by no means detrimental to the final product. It was beneficial. This is because “our” project was not only our (myself, Sydney, and You) project. It is the project of the people who are living there first and foremost. And in our case it was also the project of the staff, who have much more experience and knew much more about Guédé and its context.
However, from what I have heard, read, and seen, westerner domineerence is where so many development projects fail. And this makes community members where the development projects take place skeptical of the generally domineering outsiders. And I definitely felt this skepticism and mistrust when I first arrived in Guédé. As I mentioned in my first reflection paper, initially I wasn’t looked at as a collaborator. I wasn’t seen as someone who was there to respect the culture, the people, or the village. I was simply seen as a pocketbook; a means for materials that they could not afford.
But I am glad to announce that the initial barriers of mistrust were broken down by the end of our stay in Guédé. And overwhelmingly so. Genuine friendships were born and a mutual respect gained (We received a special heartfelt thank you from the assistant director of the primary school. It was obvious that his attitude had changed and that he now held a respect for us and the work that we had done with his students). A beautiful permaculture garden was produced as a result. The trees planted, the fence built, and the seeds sown have connected the community to the garden in a physical manner. But that is only small part of the newfound connection to that plot of Earth. More importantly, it was the person to person friendships that were formed that will keep people coming to the garden. And even if the garden physically fails, it will never be forgotten because of these friendships that were formed. The sweat, the frustration, the fatigue, the injuries, the laughter, the learning, and the growing that we (two American university students, one Senegalese university student, Guédé students and teachers—all of us people) shared can never be forgotten. It was genuine, it was mutual. I completely lost the feeling that I was coming to help this rural African community. I was there with my friends and family investing myself in my community.
Nonetheless, it was my community for only 5 weeks. This was something that I could not control and was probably the biggest impediment to the overall sustainability of the project (the lack of ability or willingness of people to spend long periods of time in a community is why almost all development projects lack long-term sustainability; this supports the argument that true sustainable development must come from the actual community members, who are invested in the community for the long haul). It is a challenge because the relationships that we had formed have become more removed (they can never completely end). The garden was the medium for the formation of these relationships and therefore its success is challenged. But I am sure lasting friendships will grow between the students in Guédé as the garden grows. And I know that the students have the knowledge and ability to successfully manage the garden. In fact, they had more knowledge about many gardening skills than me and a far better understanding of the local environment than I will ever have (For example, on the last day I was taught by one of the students how to separate flower seed from their shells without losing all of the seeds). I am sure that I learned more than I taught. This was not something that I necessarily expected at the commencement of the project. However, I have realized that you must be open to learning from the vast knowledge of the community members in order to begin to attempt worthwhile and beneficial work.
However, from what I have heard, read, and seen, westerner domineerence is where so many development projects fail. And this makes community members where the development projects take place skeptical of the generally domineering outsiders. And I definitely felt this skepticism and mistrust when I first arrived in Guédé. As I mentioned in my first reflection paper, initially I wasn’t looked at as a collaborator. I wasn’t seen as someone who was there to respect the culture, the people, or the village. I was simply seen as a pocketbook; a means for materials that they could not afford.
But I am glad to announce that the initial barriers of mistrust were broken down by the end of our stay in Guédé. And overwhelmingly so. Genuine friendships were born and a mutual respect gained (We received a special heartfelt thank you from the assistant director of the primary school. It was obvious that his attitude had changed and that he now held a respect for us and the work that we had done with his students). A beautiful permaculture garden was produced as a result. The trees planted, the fence built, and the seeds sown have connected the community to the garden in a physical manner. But that is only small part of the newfound connection to that plot of Earth. More importantly, it was the person to person friendships that were formed that will keep people coming to the garden. And even if the garden physically fails, it will never be forgotten because of these friendships that were formed. The sweat, the frustration, the fatigue, the injuries, the laughter, the learning, and the growing that we (two American university students, one Senegalese university student, Guédé students and teachers—all of us people) shared can never be forgotten. It was genuine, it was mutual. I completely lost the feeling that I was coming to help this rural African community. I was there with my friends and family investing myself in my community.
Nonetheless, it was my community for only 5 weeks. This was something that I could not control and was probably the biggest impediment to the overall sustainability of the project (the lack of ability or willingness of people to spend long periods of time in a community is why almost all development projects lack long-term sustainability; this supports the argument that true sustainable development must come from the actual community members, who are invested in the community for the long haul). It is a challenge because the relationships that we had formed have become more removed (they can never completely end). The garden was the medium for the formation of these relationships and therefore its success is challenged. But I am sure lasting friendships will grow between the students in Guédé as the garden grows. And I know that the students have the knowledge and ability to successfully manage the garden. In fact, they had more knowledge about many gardening skills than me and a far better understanding of the local environment than I will ever have (For example, on the last day I was taught by one of the students how to separate flower seed from their shells without losing all of the seeds). I am sure that I learned more than I taught. This was not something that I necessarily expected at the commencement of the project. However, I have realized that you must be open to learning from the vast knowledge of the community members in order to begin to attempt worthwhile and beneficial work.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Being Human
Ok, so this reflection is going to be a little more “out there” than some of my other writings. I actually wrote this on March 13 (a Friday nonetheless). Of course my thoughts and ideas have morphed and shifted to a certain degree with time, but I will type it up as I wrote it then. I think it is interesting.
“Picture yourself in—try to picture the world and all the places within it. Ok, you see a few countries, places you have been, some familiar looking people, some foreign looking people, some places you have seen on TV. Maybe you are even like me and try to circumnavigate the world in your mind; hitting every continent and trying to touch many countries along the way. But you soon realize that these are mere images; things our brains and minds have constructed based on our dreams, thoughts, ideas, books, pictures, stories, TV, a glimpse that you gained from travelling, etc. The fact of the matter is, no one can see the entire earth. Therefore, from our experiences we extrapolate. This is normal. It is not a bad thing. But here is my point. What I am realizing here in Senegal is that my world view is SO narrow. We can really only know what we have seen. Even then with memory, consciousness, and sub consciousness we further shape our own reality which gradually blurs and becomes less definite over time.
Therefore, if we have such a hard time understanding our OWN reality, how can we expect to understand that of even our loved ones. This makes trying to understand the reality of a man in rural Senegal seem quite impossible. And that is the interesting part. There are so many people on this Earth; So many consciousnesses; Billions of different ways of thinking. And while we can relate to the consciousnesses of our family, friends, neighbors, statesmen, countrymen, and Westerners a little better (if you are a westerner), there are so many people that see the world from truly different eyes. Truly different understandings of the world.
This being said, I also believe that there is a greater world consciousness; That the world is full of some sort of universal principles/forces/energies that connect all people. There have been past, there are present, and there will be future realities that connect all humans (and possibly all earthly things) on an energetic, subconscious level. Something in the spirit; something deep in the brain or in the heart. Have you ever felt that you could understand and empathize with the situation , the reality of another person / group of persons without really knowing or experiencing it? Take a fiction book. All of us have known characters close to our hearts. Why are the so close? Supposedly it is a character made up by a person whom you have never met. How can such a connection be explained? Or how can people like Steven Spielberg direct a movie like Saving Private Ryan, even though he was never in war, let alone storming the beaches of Normandy. Yes research, yes first hand accounts, but there is something even more. It is a consciousness that connects us all. Like the rising and sinking of a tide, it ebbs and flows freely between us; being strongest between the people we are closest connected to. Call it an intrinsic knowledge, morals, belief, spirituality, love; it is there and it shapes the world in which we live. We draw from the consciousness of our forefathers. But this consciousness is constantly shifting and changing.
I feel that the current consciousness (at least speaking from a western perspective) has been shaped by control, power, and selfish want beyond mere survival. And while I believe that this is still strongly the current paradigm, but that this is shifting (as it always is, has, and will be). While it is shifting on many fronts, I would like to draw attention to the biggest, most encompassing which is how we live in, interact with, and treat the world in which we live. There has been the view of take as much, use as much, exploit as much, and pollute as much because not only was nature limitless and infinitely forgiving, we were more important (in my mind, specifically, but not limited too, white westerners who have more recently degraded the planet with a power and speed never before seen). And I think that this is changing. I can see it starting to change. Person by person, action by action, standing up by standing up. The problem is, the other consciousness likes its power and is fighting to hold its power harder than ever. But that’s why every little action (as small as picking up a plastic bottle and discussing with people to as grand as going to Senegal to learn more about sustainability in Senegal, the U.S., and yourself). It is about doing all that you can do to live your life with a new environmental consciousness—every action counts. There is literally nothing too small, because every action eventually becomes repetition, becomes habit, becomes life, and has impacts upon others that stretch far and wide beyond our own comprehension.
And being here in Senegal is one reason that I have so much hope for this shift in consciousness. Here, I am mixed and intermixed within a very different culture, but at the same time there is much that is the same (and I am not just talking about materialistic things, thoughts, and ideas that are a result of globalization and the World Bank). I’m talking about being human. It’s different but it’s the same because we are human! We have fears, hopes, senses of humor, religion, sport, love (it is apparent to me that people here have a sense of a longing for someone or something where they feel that unifying connection called love). And babies. I have spent a lot of time here in Senegal with babies. They cry. They want food, their mom. They laugh. They react and interact. And their eyes…oh their eyes—you see right into their minds: their thoughts, their souls. You see personalities, you see their raw emotions. It’s human. It’s not different cultures. It’s human and it’s something so special.”
“Picture yourself in—try to picture the world and all the places within it. Ok, you see a few countries, places you have been, some familiar looking people, some foreign looking people, some places you have seen on TV. Maybe you are even like me and try to circumnavigate the world in your mind; hitting every continent and trying to touch many countries along the way. But you soon realize that these are mere images; things our brains and minds have constructed based on our dreams, thoughts, ideas, books, pictures, stories, TV, a glimpse that you gained from travelling, etc. The fact of the matter is, no one can see the entire earth. Therefore, from our experiences we extrapolate. This is normal. It is not a bad thing. But here is my point. What I am realizing here in Senegal is that my world view is SO narrow. We can really only know what we have seen. Even then with memory, consciousness, and sub consciousness we further shape our own reality which gradually blurs and becomes less definite over time.
Therefore, if we have such a hard time understanding our OWN reality, how can we expect to understand that of even our loved ones. This makes trying to understand the reality of a man in rural Senegal seem quite impossible. And that is the interesting part. There are so many people on this Earth; So many consciousnesses; Billions of different ways of thinking. And while we can relate to the consciousnesses of our family, friends, neighbors, statesmen, countrymen, and Westerners a little better (if you are a westerner), there are so many people that see the world from truly different eyes. Truly different understandings of the world.
This being said, I also believe that there is a greater world consciousness; That the world is full of some sort of universal principles/forces/energies that connect all people. There have been past, there are present, and there will be future realities that connect all humans (and possibly all earthly things) on an energetic, subconscious level. Something in the spirit; something deep in the brain or in the heart. Have you ever felt that you could understand and empathize with the situation , the reality of another person / group of persons without really knowing or experiencing it? Take a fiction book. All of us have known characters close to our hearts. Why are the so close? Supposedly it is a character made up by a person whom you have never met. How can such a connection be explained? Or how can people like Steven Spielberg direct a movie like Saving Private Ryan, even though he was never in war, let alone storming the beaches of Normandy. Yes research, yes first hand accounts, but there is something even more. It is a consciousness that connects us all. Like the rising and sinking of a tide, it ebbs and flows freely between us; being strongest between the people we are closest connected to. Call it an intrinsic knowledge, morals, belief, spirituality, love; it is there and it shapes the world in which we live. We draw from the consciousness of our forefathers. But this consciousness is constantly shifting and changing.
I feel that the current consciousness (at least speaking from a western perspective) has been shaped by control, power, and selfish want beyond mere survival. And while I believe that this is still strongly the current paradigm, but that this is shifting (as it always is, has, and will be). While it is shifting on many fronts, I would like to draw attention to the biggest, most encompassing which is how we live in, interact with, and treat the world in which we live. There has been the view of take as much, use as much, exploit as much, and pollute as much because not only was nature limitless and infinitely forgiving, we were more important (in my mind, specifically, but not limited too, white westerners who have more recently degraded the planet with a power and speed never before seen). And I think that this is changing. I can see it starting to change. Person by person, action by action, standing up by standing up. The problem is, the other consciousness likes its power and is fighting to hold its power harder than ever. But that’s why every little action (as small as picking up a plastic bottle and discussing with people to as grand as going to Senegal to learn more about sustainability in Senegal, the U.S., and yourself). It is about doing all that you can do to live your life with a new environmental consciousness—every action counts. There is literally nothing too small, because every action eventually becomes repetition, becomes habit, becomes life, and has impacts upon others that stretch far and wide beyond our own comprehension.
And being here in Senegal is one reason that I have so much hope for this shift in consciousness. Here, I am mixed and intermixed within a very different culture, but at the same time there is much that is the same (and I am not just talking about materialistic things, thoughts, and ideas that are a result of globalization and the World Bank). I’m talking about being human. It’s different but it’s the same because we are human! We have fears, hopes, senses of humor, religion, sport, love (it is apparent to me that people here have a sense of a longing for someone or something where they feel that unifying connection called love). And babies. I have spent a lot of time here in Senegal with babies. They cry. They want food, their mom. They laugh. They react and interact. And their eyes…oh their eyes—you see right into their minds: their thoughts, their souls. You see personalities, you see their raw emotions. It’s human. It’s not different cultures. It’s human and it’s something so special.”
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Attaya
Making Senegalese tea (Attaya). The Process. Ready. Let’s Go. So I think that I can describe very well much you need to know about this ritualistic process from a tea experience that I had last Friday (March 6).
Ok, class ends. It’s five o’clock on a Friday. We are burnt out from a week of sitting in class and cultural immersion. Go get a beer right? Wrong.
“Hey Pete, you wanna go make some attaya. I’m really fiendin’.”
“Yeah man, that sounds so incredibly perfect. Cody you down?”
“Uh, yeah…I’ll help make, but I’m not going to drink. You guys are addicts.”
But let me clarify what Cody means when he says we are addicts. We are only addicts in the best way possible. And I know that I really sound like an addict in denial when I say that, but attaya is truly a great thing. It’s not just the tea. It’s the process. I will explain and then I will let you judge for yourself.
So after splitting GENSEN (our learning center), we had to decide where our tea session would take place. We decide on Pete’s and Cody’s house. The other option is my house. My house is perpetually controlled by three women and two crying babies. As you may guess, not the ideal location for three young males to ritualize and unwind.
Ok, so now we have to visit one of dozens of corner stores (there are literally about 5 stores in every 50 yard radius of where you are standing in Yoff that stock exactly the same things—its interesting: no one has an edge and they are all seemingly doing good business. Well, I guess it makes sense because there are no real grocery stores here. Everything food related comes from a vendor on the street, the bakery, or one of these little corner stores. There is a high demand) and pick up our ingredients, otherwise known as the big three: A small box of “premium” Chinese green tea, a bag of sugar, and bundle of mint. We don’t really have much of a choice to make (the sugar is usually in a generic plastic bag, and the mint is taken out of the fridge cut and tied and wrapped in newspaper). However, the one choice we do have to make is critical (or so I was told). This is the choice of the tea, of which there are multiple brands. However, there are only three that you should choose: Cheval (Horse) or Forté (Strong) or La Force (The Strength). Personally I prefer Cheval, but simply because the box looks cooler.
Anyway, we pick up our big three, and stroll down the sanded alleyway to the house with a sense of a deeply absorbed pleasure. Our hearts like a large, dry cotton ball for the golden-brown candy liquid we are about to consume. But when I say candy, I don’t mean anything repulsively artificial and gaggingly sugared. It’s more like the nectar from a bright and blooming flower that blissfully intoxicates the bee. Or drops of blood from a lover’s drunken heart. And while these over-the-top emotional descriptions might just be unique to me, something similar is evoked in many people. It is the power of the tea and her beautiful process. So let’s actually delve into the process that I keep talking about.
Firstly we had to choose our weapon: Gas or charcoal. For me, this is only a decision if time is a factor. If you don’t have a few hours to fully enjoy yourself, you should choose gas. But by choosing gas, you really miss out on the full and truly wonderful experience. So I am not going to talk about gas because that is not what we chose on this fine Friday afternoon.
So now we have to get some charcoal from one of the two charcoal vendors within three football fields of each other. The vendors make their charcoal onsite and all of the charcoal is stored (and I think made) in these 12’ high and 15’ diameter wood-woven cylindrical containers. It’s actually very impressive. The going price for 2 kilos (which will half fill an ordinary plastic bag) is 300 CFA (about 60 cents). So we take the charcoal back, put it in our charcoal cooker (a small contraption made of sheet metal that consists of an upside down cone (where you put the charcoal) connected with a grate in between to a cylinder that has an opening in the center to allow air flow (therefore giving the charcoal the ability to catch flame and burn). It is an extremely handy device that allows you to heat up anything of a modest size, just about anywhere (I intend on instituting it, and tea, in my life when I come back to the US).
Ok so back to our day. We got the charcoal going and we are all sitting around it on small wooden stools in front of the house on a sort of porch type area. Nothing could be better. The methodical process begins. So let me explain. There are three rounds to the tea making process. The premier, the deuxiéme, and the troisiéme. The premier is quite strong, but balanced by an equal amount of sweetness (By the way, the Senegalese adore their sugar and generally likes things quite sweet). It has been called diesel fuel (actually that’s mostly when I make it…). The deuxiéme is still a modestly strong tea (if you didn’t add the whole packet of tea to the premier, you can add the remaining to the pot for the deuxiéme). However, the deuxiéme adds a new wrinkle: mint. So the deuxiéme is of medium strength, sweet, and minty. It is my favorite. Next comes the troisiéme. It is the lightest, sweet, and should be quite minty (the decreasing strength makes sense logically and practically: you keep using the same tea leaves so the tea will become lighter and lighter, the more times you boil it. But it’s always nice to end on a light note, so boiling’s laws of nature work out well). It is the perfect way to end the process. And let me assure you every round was just right that Friday afternoon.
There are details about exactly how much water, sugar, tea, and mint to add. As well as, how hot your charcoal should be and how long you should let your tea boil. You can also get specific about when you should add the sugar. I am not going to get into these details for the fear of boring you. Also, as with anything else, there is no universal rule to making attaya. Everyone has their own technique and preferences, which makes for more fun and flavor.
But I do need to inform everyone about another aspect of attaya. This is the presentation when it is served. First of all the tea is served in small glasses that are reminiscent of shot glasses. They are filled halfway with tea, but with the best of presentation, the glass is completely full. This is because of the mousse (foam): a process in of itself that is essential to the overall process. The mousse is achieved by high-powering the tea from one glass to another causing the formation of bubbles, which can (if done correctly) turn into half a glass of foam. Mousse equals style points.
As you may have noticed, a lot of this reflection has been focused on the details of making attaya. The details and cultural specificities are important and a piece of the beauty of the process. However, another piece of the beauty is the absolute lack of details. It’s a sweeping tranquility. It’s about sitting back, talking to your friends, listening, reflecting, and soaking life in. These are things that don’t always happen in our hectic and technologically centered lives. It’s a break from the current paradigm. It’s brings us back to our roots as reflective, inventive, processing, social creatures. And it’s never individualistic, never selfish. Always inclusive, always selfless. The one making tea offers the tea to passersby whom he may not know before he himself drinks. It is truly a beautiful process. A beautiful human-connecting process.
Ok, class ends. It’s five o’clock on a Friday. We are burnt out from a week of sitting in class and cultural immersion. Go get a beer right? Wrong.
“Hey Pete, you wanna go make some attaya. I’m really fiendin’.”
“Yeah man, that sounds so incredibly perfect. Cody you down?”
“Uh, yeah…I’ll help make, but I’m not going to drink. You guys are addicts.”
But let me clarify what Cody means when he says we are addicts. We are only addicts in the best way possible. And I know that I really sound like an addict in denial when I say that, but attaya is truly a great thing. It’s not just the tea. It’s the process. I will explain and then I will let you judge for yourself.
So after splitting GENSEN (our learning center), we had to decide where our tea session would take place. We decide on Pete’s and Cody’s house. The other option is my house. My house is perpetually controlled by three women and two crying babies. As you may guess, not the ideal location for three young males to ritualize and unwind.
Ok, so now we have to visit one of dozens of corner stores (there are literally about 5 stores in every 50 yard radius of where you are standing in Yoff that stock exactly the same things—its interesting: no one has an edge and they are all seemingly doing good business. Well, I guess it makes sense because there are no real grocery stores here. Everything food related comes from a vendor on the street, the bakery, or one of these little corner stores. There is a high demand) and pick up our ingredients, otherwise known as the big three: A small box of “premium” Chinese green tea, a bag of sugar, and bundle of mint. We don’t really have much of a choice to make (the sugar is usually in a generic plastic bag, and the mint is taken out of the fridge cut and tied and wrapped in newspaper). However, the one choice we do have to make is critical (or so I was told). This is the choice of the tea, of which there are multiple brands. However, there are only three that you should choose: Cheval (Horse) or Forté (Strong) or La Force (The Strength). Personally I prefer Cheval, but simply because the box looks cooler.
Anyway, we pick up our big three, and stroll down the sanded alleyway to the house with a sense of a deeply absorbed pleasure. Our hearts like a large, dry cotton ball for the golden-brown candy liquid we are about to consume. But when I say candy, I don’t mean anything repulsively artificial and gaggingly sugared. It’s more like the nectar from a bright and blooming flower that blissfully intoxicates the bee. Or drops of blood from a lover’s drunken heart. And while these over-the-top emotional descriptions might just be unique to me, something similar is evoked in many people. It is the power of the tea and her beautiful process. So let’s actually delve into the process that I keep talking about.
Firstly we had to choose our weapon: Gas or charcoal. For me, this is only a decision if time is a factor. If you don’t have a few hours to fully enjoy yourself, you should choose gas. But by choosing gas, you really miss out on the full and truly wonderful experience. So I am not going to talk about gas because that is not what we chose on this fine Friday afternoon.
So now we have to get some charcoal from one of the two charcoal vendors within three football fields of each other. The vendors make their charcoal onsite and all of the charcoal is stored (and I think made) in these 12’ high and 15’ diameter wood-woven cylindrical containers. It’s actually very impressive. The going price for 2 kilos (which will half fill an ordinary plastic bag) is 300 CFA (about 60 cents). So we take the charcoal back, put it in our charcoal cooker (a small contraption made of sheet metal that consists of an upside down cone (where you put the charcoal) connected with a grate in between to a cylinder that has an opening in the center to allow air flow (therefore giving the charcoal the ability to catch flame and burn). It is an extremely handy device that allows you to heat up anything of a modest size, just about anywhere (I intend on instituting it, and tea, in my life when I come back to the US).
Ok so back to our day. We got the charcoal going and we are all sitting around it on small wooden stools in front of the house on a sort of porch type area. Nothing could be better. The methodical process begins. So let me explain. There are three rounds to the tea making process. The premier, the deuxiéme, and the troisiéme. The premier is quite strong, but balanced by an equal amount of sweetness (By the way, the Senegalese adore their sugar and generally likes things quite sweet). It has been called diesel fuel (actually that’s mostly when I make it…). The deuxiéme is still a modestly strong tea (if you didn’t add the whole packet of tea to the premier, you can add the remaining to the pot for the deuxiéme). However, the deuxiéme adds a new wrinkle: mint. So the deuxiéme is of medium strength, sweet, and minty. It is my favorite. Next comes the troisiéme. It is the lightest, sweet, and should be quite minty (the decreasing strength makes sense logically and practically: you keep using the same tea leaves so the tea will become lighter and lighter, the more times you boil it. But it’s always nice to end on a light note, so boiling’s laws of nature work out well). It is the perfect way to end the process. And let me assure you every round was just right that Friday afternoon.
There are details about exactly how much water, sugar, tea, and mint to add. As well as, how hot your charcoal should be and how long you should let your tea boil. You can also get specific about when you should add the sugar. I am not going to get into these details for the fear of boring you. Also, as with anything else, there is no universal rule to making attaya. Everyone has their own technique and preferences, which makes for more fun and flavor.
But I do need to inform everyone about another aspect of attaya. This is the presentation when it is served. First of all the tea is served in small glasses that are reminiscent of shot glasses. They are filled halfway with tea, but with the best of presentation, the glass is completely full. This is because of the mousse (foam): a process in of itself that is essential to the overall process. The mousse is achieved by high-powering the tea from one glass to another causing the formation of bubbles, which can (if done correctly) turn into half a glass of foam. Mousse equals style points.
As you may have noticed, a lot of this reflection has been focused on the details of making attaya. The details and cultural specificities are important and a piece of the beauty of the process. However, another piece of the beauty is the absolute lack of details. It’s a sweeping tranquility. It’s about sitting back, talking to your friends, listening, reflecting, and soaking life in. These are things that don’t always happen in our hectic and technologically centered lives. It’s a break from the current paradigm. It’s brings us back to our roots as reflective, inventive, processing, social creatures. And it’s never individualistic, never selfish. Always inclusive, always selfless. The one making tea offers the tea to passersby whom he may not know before he himself drinks. It is truly a beautiful process. A beautiful human-connecting process.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
The Village
So this post doesn't really follow my adventure chronologically, but this is a reflection that I wrote about my first week-long trip to the Village of Geude Chantier (a very very very rural agricultural village in the desert of Northern Senegal). I was there about a month ago, I am going again next Friday for a week, and I will be there for three weeks in April. It is in this village that we are doing our Independent Study and Service Learning projects. Two other students and I are working on helping to design and implement and organic school garden (that will hopefully last indefinitely into the future). For this project I have to talk to experts and become an expert myself in the educational garden field (which includes becoming an expert in the inputs such as compost, seeds, plants, etc. that are effective for the region in which I am working). It's a lot of work and research, but it has been very rewarding thus far and will only continue to become more rewarding. We really don't have the time needed for such an ambitious project. But that's life. We will do our best to lay the groundwork for a long lasting educational garden.
Oh and you guys are gonna need to know that touba means "white person" in Senegal. And you guys should know that even though this reflection is somewhat critical, I had a incredible time in Guede Chantier!! The people were very welcoming and friendly. It was by far the most different place I have ever been. It really opened my eyes. It was a different lifestyle. It gave me a whole new definition of rural. No one speaks English. A lot of people don't speak French. I had to go fetch water in big jugs. I skinned a goat. I illegally crossed the Senegal River into Mauritania in a dugout canoe. Enjoy!:
“Touba, touba, touba, touba, touba!!!!!!!!!” This echoing word, along with the pattering feet of the ever present little boys and girls, has been forever branded in my memory. While this chanting may have sounded like a taunt, for the most part, the Guede Chantier children were simply excited to see this strange, white skinned mythical creature. However, there is an underlying negative connotation to these seemingly innocent screams that became apparent to me in other arenas of the village as well…
When we were all gathered in the small community meeting building with many of the village leaders I believe that it was Fatou Sec (the well respected lady who preserves vegetables and maintains the knowledge of many traditional recipes) who said that us outsiders should feel at home because this is “Our Community.” I found this statement quite uplifting and reassuring. I had been wondering how the community feels about a group of outsiders with 6 white American students coming into the community attempting to help solve a wide array of problems. According to Fatou Sec’s statement, it appeared very positive. However, as my stay in Guede Chantier continued, I realized that this was not always the case…
So here is where I describe the negative undertones. While my experience in Guede Chantier was overwhelming positive and full of friendly people, I also felt that I was not always taken seriously and that I was not seen as an equal member of the community. For example, Sydney, Youssouph, and I are working on the school garden project. First we talked to a teacher at the primary school who was previously implicated in the school garden. We then talked to a natural science and math teacher at the secondary school. What I found from both conversations was the sense that I was being talked down to. Both men definitely proved that they were quite knowledgeable about the local environment. Both men implied that they were more than capable in organic agricultural practices. And both men talked to me as if I was mainly the means for the materials they lacked. I felt that I was looked at as a tool, instead of a mechanic. That I was not there equal, but simply a naïve touba that may be able to help with money but not much beyond that. It was disheartening. I felt as an object in their plan, not as a collaborator.
But, I feel that there is hope. (I am Barack Obama). This hope comes from another experience that I had. One of the days, my host brother El Hajj and I were expressing our manly capabilities through taunts, jeers, and muscle flexing. Sooner than later, he ended up challenging me to a Senegalese wrestling match. I got pumped. He started to chuckle. He backed down saying that he would hurt me basically because I was a weak and inexperienced touba. So we sat back down, but continued to stare each other down (in a semi-joking manner). And finally, I got the moment I was waiting for…a chance to prove to this villager that I was not a weak touba!!! So we started at it, and to his surprise, I was much stronger than he had expected. He ended up winning (because my back touched the ground), but not before I had flipped him over and roughed him up more than he did to me. After the fact, he kept saying how impressed he was with me and that we would have to wrestle again next time. It was a glorious moment for me, because I went from being a weak touba to a strong village warrior (ok maybe not quite). But anyway, the point is that I was initially looked down upon, so I had to prove myself to gain respect. This is what gives me hope. Even though these school teachers look down upon me now, I will hopefully prove to them my commitment, knowledge, and fortitude so they will have know choice to view me as a community collaborator instead of an outside tool.
PHOTOS
Some Paris photos are on facebook. If you don't have access to facebook, and would like to see them, let me know and I can send them to you.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Oh boy Senny!!!
Well, I have been in Senegal for a month now and I have seen, done, experienced, and reflected upon waay too many things to possibly describe in a blog (remember, I am taking classes, doing research, and just living it up Senegalese style). So basically...I don't have as much time for you guys as I would like, but I will try my gosh darnedest. :)
Hmm, mmm. Let me clear my throat. Let's begin... To be honest, I didn't really know what to expect when coming to Senegal. I knew that it was in West Africa, I knew I would be on the coast near the capital and biggest city Dakar (I am in a sort of suburb of Dakar known as Yoff), I knew Senegal was predominately Muslim, I thought the people of Yoff's livlihoods revolved around fishing (which in fact it really doesn't--and I will get into fishing a little later), I knew I would be living with a traditional Senegalese family (but I couldn't tell you who), and I knew that it was going to be different. But I really didn't have any concrete idea of what I was throwing myself into. And I had no idea how different/similar life would be from home or Paris or anywhere else I had experienced. And let me tell you, it really is different. And I experienced culture shock(and still am everyday) like I never had before.
So first off simply arriving at the airport was an experience. Basically, from what I saw, Dakar's airport is not much more than a building that houses a small baggage claim area (mind you Dakar has a metropolitan population around 3 million). It was a battle to get out because hundreds of people were trying to shove their bags onto one x-ray conveyor belt just for the heck of it (I don't even think that the x-ray machine was working). So ok, I'm out of the hot, humid airport. It's gonna be smooth sailing from here on out. Wrong. Right when I get out all kinds of people try to get me to give them my bags and to get into their taxi (Side note about taxis: Taxis rule Dakar. They are owned by individuals and are everywhere. I mean like 7 out of 10 cars on the road are taxis. And get this. Instead of you calling for a taxi, the taxi calls for you. The driver honks at you and sticks out his head inquisitively as if to say, "You need a taxi? Please get in my taxi. Pretty please with sugar on top. Ok, you don't want a taxi. Fine. I'm leaving!") Anyway, it was actually quite overwhelming and somewhat alarming outside of the airport because I didn't know what the people who were picking me up looked like. Ok, phew! Found my peeps and pushed my way through all the cab drivers and hustlers. Next task: Get into a taxi and make it to my anonymous host family...my adventure will continue shortly. Don't worry, I am still alive and well.
Hmm, mmm. Let me clear my throat. Let's begin... To be honest, I didn't really know what to expect when coming to Senegal. I knew that it was in West Africa, I knew I would be on the coast near the capital and biggest city Dakar (I am in a sort of suburb of Dakar known as Yoff), I knew Senegal was predominately Muslim, I thought the people of Yoff's livlihoods revolved around fishing (which in fact it really doesn't--and I will get into fishing a little later), I knew I would be living with a traditional Senegalese family (but I couldn't tell you who), and I knew that it was going to be different. But I really didn't have any concrete idea of what I was throwing myself into. And I had no idea how different/similar life would be from home or Paris or anywhere else I had experienced. And let me tell you, it really is different. And I experienced culture shock(and still am everyday) like I never had before.
So first off simply arriving at the airport was an experience. Basically, from what I saw, Dakar's airport is not much more than a building that houses a small baggage claim area (mind you Dakar has a metropolitan population around 3 million). It was a battle to get out because hundreds of people were trying to shove their bags onto one x-ray conveyor belt just for the heck of it (I don't even think that the x-ray machine was working). So ok, I'm out of the hot, humid airport. It's gonna be smooth sailing from here on out. Wrong. Right when I get out all kinds of people try to get me to give them my bags and to get into their taxi (Side note about taxis: Taxis rule Dakar. They are owned by individuals and are everywhere. I mean like 7 out of 10 cars on the road are taxis. And get this. Instead of you calling for a taxi, the taxi calls for you. The driver honks at you and sticks out his head inquisitively as if to say, "You need a taxi? Please get in my taxi. Pretty please with sugar on top. Ok, you don't want a taxi. Fine. I'm leaving!") Anyway, it was actually quite overwhelming and somewhat alarming outside of the airport because I didn't know what the people who were picking me up looked like. Ok, phew! Found my peeps and pushed my way through all the cab drivers and hustlers. Next task: Get into a taxi and make it to my anonymous host family...my adventure will continue shortly. Don't worry, I am still alive and well.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Okkkkk everybody. Here is my first crack at a blog. I have been meaning to get one started for some time now, but as usual, I am a little behind the times (but I will attempt to get everyone--assuming people will actually read my mumblings-- up to date somewhat). Well, I arrived in Senegal on the 28th of January, so it has been almost a month that I have been here...Wow that's surprising for me to write. I have been in Africa for a month. Hmmmmm. Interesting. Hahaa. I couldn't previously imagine casually writing about it, but Senegal has already become a home away from home. It is pretty remarkable. But I will get to my Senegal (or as Vinca likes to call it "Senny"--I like saying Senny more than Senegal so if I write Senny, don't be alarmed) adventures soon enough. Firstly, I must not forget about the first leg of my trip: Paris and my second family who is there (As you will soon find out, my travels have been very family oriented).
Yes Paris. Well, I arrived in Paris on the on the 17th of January and left on the 28th. It was a fabulous 11 days full of hustle & bustle, avoiding getting hustled, and late night cheese eating. Ooooo I really miss French cheese right now (give me some Camembert!!!). But anyway, despite sleeping until 1 p.m. many mornings, I managed to do an incredible amount. I saw all of the sites on my own (Notre-Dame, Montmartre and the Sacre Coeur, the Opera, the Obelisk, Les Invalides, and of course the Eiffel Tower, etc, etc......). I call this time alone in Paris the "Benson the rugged explorer period." These were very fun and satisfying times because I pretty much did as I wanted and took my time and explored parts of Paris that I wouldn't have otherwise seen and did things that I wouldn't have otherwise done; (like visting an outdoor food market in the African section or beginning to take a nap in the peaceful and architecturally profound Notre-Dame, but instead getting sucked into a Catholic mass (yeah I know, really?), or being hollered at and harassed by pimps and "dancers" near the Moulin Rouge (single white tourist male = fresh meat). It was also extremely interesting to simply ride the extensive Parisian metro system (there is nothing quite like being crammed in a car with a bunch of frenchies!!!!). But seriously, it was great to learn the unspoken metro rules (that being, you got it, no one speaks!!), learn to deal with musicians and beggars (whom are always actively trying hustle you for money, which is different from those in the U.S.), and to eavesdrop on the occasional conversation in order to try and improve my french comprehension. Furthermore, seeing Paris, the neighborhoods, and the people that are the soul of the city was worth the farecard (it is a very racially, ethnically, and culturally diverse city contrary to the beliefs of many people).
Another aspect of my Paris trip was the "Benson the American homie" period. This was my time spent with Clement (my French friend and brother) and his friends. I just realized that I didn't introduce my French family. Well, it is the Herrmann family and there is Jean-Louis (father), Marie-Annick (mother), Clement (bother-20 years old), and Mathieu (brother-17 years old). They all live in an apartment just outside Paris in a town called Bourg-la-Reine. Anyway, this period included me hanging in the Bourg-la-Reine park (immense and beautiful in a very human manipulated way) walking, talking, and footballing. It also included me going to a stand-up comedy and musical show (didn't really understand what was going on, but it was somehow still very entertaining). Here, we met a sort of self-promoting hustler by the name of Sam de Paname (Paname is slang for Paris by the way). When he found out that I was American, the first thing he said was, "I love Big Macs." I just kind of laughed and smiled, but I was thinking. "Gee, that's a pretty cliche and stereotypical thing to say. You're not that funny." Little did I know at the time, but in no more than 15 minutes I would be snarfing down french fries in a McDonald's.
The third and final aspect of my Parisian experience was my "Benson the homie-homie/tour guide" experience. Most of you are probably scratching your heads over this title, but to explain in layman terms: my good friend Dwight (who had never before been to Paris) came and visited me for the weekend. Wow, haha, I don't know where to begin. There are soo many good stories from this part of the Paris trip. I could probably have a blog just on the few days that Dwight and I were together. Seriously. First of all, I showed him pretty much everything that I had ever seen in Paris (maybe more) in just a couple days. We did A LOT of walking and metro-riding. I mean A LOT A LOT. My legs are still sore. Plus, Dwight was staying at a hostel in one of the shadier parts of Paris (where clans of people try to sell you single packs of Marlboro cigarettes (once again, yeah I know, really?) and where the metro station was never functioning and we therefore had to jump over the gates to get where we wanted to go--I found that the Paris metro system is extremely efficient, but rather lawless: jumping gates is commonplace and many times quite necessary).
Anyway, there is a standout story from this "homie-homie/tourguide" part of the trip that I feel does a near-perfect job at capturing the essence of the moment. Well, it was dark and rainy and getting kind-of late. And as Dwight and I had taken to walking many miles in a day, we decided to cruise down the good ole' Champs D'Elysee, because, "Hey, we might as well see the Arc de Triomphe while we are at it." This is where it gets good. After a long interrupted freestyle session, we decided to bust into speaking our own completely made up language. I mean absolute free speak. Its hard to describe, but I think it ended up sounding like a combination between Arabic, Hindi, Hebrew, French, Chinese, and your stereotypical tribal grunting. Pretty much a mess. We started doing this just for heck of it and in order to satirize the French and all the other tourist languages that we had been bombarded with. It was great fun. It was funny when we were yelling at each other and people would walk by thinking that we were just speaking a language that they couldn't understand. It was funnier when we were shouting at each other and the surrounding public reaction was general dumbfoundedness (a double-take and then one of those "what the..........???" facial expressions). However, it was funniest (I'm actually laughing outloud as I am writing this) when Dwight and I continued our "funk speak" while underneath the Arc de Triomphe. There were policemen and tourists, all of whom were giving us bizarre looks. But then, we heard, like a prayer falling from the sky, the MOST American girl talking with her MOST American girlfriends. "Um, like, do you think that this is a good picture of me with the eternal flame, or does the lighting make me look fat???? Maybe it was just that chocolate crepe pancakey thingy I ate earlier." Dwight and I looked at each other, our eyes speaking the same language. I indicated that he should make the first move. So sure enough, he goes over to girls, sweet as a baby lamb, and asks " Aba ba gubab zingaleyhi barakaa naka raka oosha?" with the accompanying hand gestures of using a camera and pointing to me standing by the eternal flame. Of course she abided. But the triumph underneath the Triomphe was that she thought we were the most sincere, funny-word speaking boys she had ever met. To her we were just from another country (maybe even France because she tried to speak to us in broken French, which I couldn't help snicker over. "Naive American" I thought). "Oh of course! La? Tu veul que....uh...uh....je prends...uh...your picture. C'est bon!! Oui!!" I am sure that if you look through our pictures, based on our smiles, you will be able to tell which picture our American friend took.
I would love to share more Paris thoughts, ideas, and experiences (the inequality and poverty smacking me everyday by the in-your-face beggars, what the land of Paris was like before the city-thought about this on the Eiffel tower, etc....), that's a little deeper and I don't have time now so....later. Doesn't it seem like deeper issues always get put off??? Anyway, this is all I got for Paris. Senegal to come soon. I know. I have been here for a month. I will get on it. However, it is generally a slower process here than in the U.S.--there is your cross-cultural tidbit to tide you over
Yes Paris. Well, I arrived in Paris on the on the 17th of January and left on the 28th. It was a fabulous 11 days full of hustle & bustle, avoiding getting hustled, and late night cheese eating. Ooooo I really miss French cheese right now (give me some Camembert!!!). But anyway, despite sleeping until 1 p.m. many mornings, I managed to do an incredible amount. I saw all of the sites on my own (Notre-Dame, Montmartre and the Sacre Coeur, the Opera, the Obelisk, Les Invalides, and of course the Eiffel Tower, etc, etc......). I call this time alone in Paris the "Benson the rugged explorer period." These were very fun and satisfying times because I pretty much did as I wanted and took my time and explored parts of Paris that I wouldn't have otherwise seen and did things that I wouldn't have otherwise done; (like visting an outdoor food market in the African section or beginning to take a nap in the peaceful and architecturally profound Notre-Dame, but instead getting sucked into a Catholic mass (yeah I know, really?), or being hollered at and harassed by pimps and "dancers" near the Moulin Rouge (single white tourist male = fresh meat). It was also extremely interesting to simply ride the extensive Parisian metro system (there is nothing quite like being crammed in a car with a bunch of frenchies!!!!). But seriously, it was great to learn the unspoken metro rules (that being, you got it, no one speaks!!), learn to deal with musicians and beggars (whom are always actively trying hustle you for money, which is different from those in the U.S.), and to eavesdrop on the occasional conversation in order to try and improve my french comprehension. Furthermore, seeing Paris, the neighborhoods, and the people that are the soul of the city was worth the farecard (it is a very racially, ethnically, and culturally diverse city contrary to the beliefs of many people).
Another aspect of my Paris trip was the "Benson the American homie" period. This was my time spent with Clement (my French friend and brother) and his friends. I just realized that I didn't introduce my French family. Well, it is the Herrmann family and there is Jean-Louis (father), Marie-Annick (mother), Clement (bother-20 years old), and Mathieu (brother-17 years old). They all live in an apartment just outside Paris in a town called Bourg-la-Reine. Anyway, this period included me hanging in the Bourg-la-Reine park (immense and beautiful in a very human manipulated way) walking, talking, and footballing. It also included me going to a stand-up comedy and musical show (didn't really understand what was going on, but it was somehow still very entertaining). Here, we met a sort of self-promoting hustler by the name of Sam de Paname (Paname is slang for Paris by the way). When he found out that I was American, the first thing he said was, "I love Big Macs." I just kind of laughed and smiled, but I was thinking. "Gee, that's a pretty cliche and stereotypical thing to say. You're not that funny." Little did I know at the time, but in no more than 15 minutes I would be snarfing down french fries in a McDonald's.
The third and final aspect of my Parisian experience was my "Benson the homie-homie/tour guide" experience. Most of you are probably scratching your heads over this title, but to explain in layman terms: my good friend Dwight (who had never before been to Paris) came and visited me for the weekend. Wow, haha, I don't know where to begin. There are soo many good stories from this part of the Paris trip. I could probably have a blog just on the few days that Dwight and I were together. Seriously. First of all, I showed him pretty much everything that I had ever seen in Paris (maybe more) in just a couple days. We did A LOT of walking and metro-riding. I mean A LOT A LOT. My legs are still sore. Plus, Dwight was staying at a hostel in one of the shadier parts of Paris (where clans of people try to sell you single packs of Marlboro cigarettes (once again, yeah I know, really?) and where the metro station was never functioning and we therefore had to jump over the gates to get where we wanted to go--I found that the Paris metro system is extremely efficient, but rather lawless: jumping gates is commonplace and many times quite necessary).
Anyway, there is a standout story from this "homie-homie/tourguide" part of the trip that I feel does a near-perfect job at capturing the essence of the moment. Well, it was dark and rainy and getting kind-of late. And as Dwight and I had taken to walking many miles in a day, we decided to cruise down the good ole' Champs D'Elysee, because, "Hey, we might as well see the Arc de Triomphe while we are at it." This is where it gets good. After a long interrupted freestyle session, we decided to bust into speaking our own completely made up language. I mean absolute free speak. Its hard to describe, but I think it ended up sounding like a combination between Arabic, Hindi, Hebrew, French, Chinese, and your stereotypical tribal grunting. Pretty much a mess. We started doing this just for heck of it and in order to satirize the French and all the other tourist languages that we had been bombarded with. It was great fun. It was funny when we were yelling at each other and people would walk by thinking that we were just speaking a language that they couldn't understand. It was funnier when we were shouting at each other and the surrounding public reaction was general dumbfoundedness (a double-take and then one of those "what the..........???" facial expressions). However, it was funniest (I'm actually laughing outloud as I am writing this) when Dwight and I continued our "funk speak" while underneath the Arc de Triomphe. There were policemen and tourists, all of whom were giving us bizarre looks. But then, we heard, like a prayer falling from the sky, the MOST American girl talking with her MOST American girlfriends. "Um, like, do you think that this is a good picture of me with the eternal flame, or does the lighting make me look fat???? Maybe it was just that chocolate crepe pancakey thingy I ate earlier." Dwight and I looked at each other, our eyes speaking the same language. I indicated that he should make the first move. So sure enough, he goes over to girls, sweet as a baby lamb, and asks " Aba ba gubab zingaleyhi barakaa naka raka oosha?" with the accompanying hand gestures of using a camera and pointing to me standing by the eternal flame. Of course she abided. But the triumph underneath the Triomphe was that she thought we were the most sincere, funny-word speaking boys she had ever met. To her we were just from another country (maybe even France because she tried to speak to us in broken French, which I couldn't help snicker over. "Naive American" I thought). "Oh of course! La? Tu veul que....uh...uh....je prends...uh...your picture. C'est bon!! Oui!!" I am sure that if you look through our pictures, based on our smiles, you will be able to tell which picture our American friend took.
I would love to share more Paris thoughts, ideas, and experiences (the inequality and poverty smacking me everyday by the in-your-face beggars, what the land of Paris was like before the city-thought about this on the Eiffel tower, etc....), that's a little deeper and I don't have time now so....later. Doesn't it seem like deeper issues always get put off??? Anyway, this is all I got for Paris. Senegal to come soon. I know. I have been here for a month. I will get on it. However, it is generally a slower process here than in the U.S.--there is your cross-cultural tidbit to tide you over
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