The reality of being a celebrity - my hands equal success!

These pictures are dated but they are from when we prepared yassa poulet (and saw the chickens die) at a Senegalese house.

Sorry that this blog is late but we have been so busy the past few days that I just haven't had time. We had the first of two Wolof tests we will be having these five weeks this morning. It went pretty well but I don't think the teachers reall care whether we get things exactly right or not. Wolof reminds me a lot of native american languages in the United States, it is mostly a spoken language, no one writes with it because if you can write you have most likely been educated in French. Therefore, the way you spell words is completely arbitrary, which is such a weird concept for someone who is good at spelling and makes sure that words are spelled correctly. Oh well, I'm learning to not care whether or not my Wolof is correct, we get laughed at if we can't speak Wolof or we get laughed at because we are white people speaking Wolof but people do appreciate us using Wolof so we attempt to incorporate it in conversations, no matter how much we may butcher it.

On Saturday we had our 4th of July celebration. Apparently since I was the one who suggested Sloppy Joe's people just assumed that I had made them before. If I have ever made them before by myself from scratch I don't remember whatsoever, but I whipped out some serious cooking skills and made sloppy joe's for about 20 people. I felt so domestic in my little kitchen, acting like I knew what I was doing, making sloppy joe's without all the necessary ingredients (cause they don't exist here) and no recipe. However, they actually turned out pretty good, not perfect but good. (This picture below is my roommate and I with one of our conversation partners at the BBQ).The funniest part of the night was listening to our Senegalese counterparts try to pronounce "sloppy joe". Maybe they just don't make that sound over here but the "py" immediately followed by the "j" sound really confused them and it was kind of rewarding listening to people struggle with the pronunciation as we've been doing in Wolof (some things are universal)! Overall it was a success and everyone had a great time, plus it was nice to get some sort of a reminder of American food. The picture below is my roommate and I with two of our teachers at the BBQ.

Sunday, a small group and I tried to go to the Ile de Madeleine, which is known for swimming and bird watching. However, a few people were dragging in the morning and we didn't head out until afternoon. By the time we arrived at the place where you rent boats to get to the island it was too late and we would have had less than 2 hours to spend on the island. So instead we found a restaurant overlooking an extremely populated beach and drank a bottle of wine, together not each! So Sunday didn't go quite the way we had planned but we'll try to go back to the island another time and anytime we get to go explore the city a little more is a good day.

Monday was our excursion to Touba. Boy was that an experience! It is the second largest city in Senegal and gives people insight into what a metropolitan city in Africa might look like without any European or Western influence. The city has always been removed from the direct influences of colonialism and Western development because the city has been planned and developed by the Mouride Islamic Brotherhood; however the reason the city has been able to flourish is due to its interaction with Western economies and markets. The Mourides first became wealthy because the founder was able to control a large workforce which was used to cultivate and export peanuts. The moment we arrived I felt a little out of place; we were going to be given a tour of the exterior of the Grand Mosque and we were greeted by people there to make sure we were dressed appropriately. I, thankfully, had an appropriate oufit on; a dress that went to the ground, a cardigan to cover my shoulders, and a scarf to cover my head. Every girl that was wearing pants or capris had to put on a wraparound skirt, as did girls who were wearing skirts that only went to their knees and not to the ground. We of course did not get to go inside the Grand Mosque however we toured around the complex where it is. There are multiple buildings in the complex; there are the graves of dead religious leaders, buildings to wash yourself in before going to pray, and mutliple prayer/reflection buildings that offer a cooler place to perform prayers. While walking through the entire complex we had to be barefoot, sand and marble gets hot after being in the sun for hours! We definitely drew multiple stares from people who were shocked to see a group of toubabs walking around in the mosque complex listening to a tour guide. There were an especially large amount of concerned looks from women who made sure to continually inspect us to make sure that we were dressed correctly and ready to create a stir if anything looked out of place.

After our tour we ate lunch at some random man's house (that's the picture below), I can't remember his name, and then were loaded back into the bus for the 3 hour ride back home. However we had to drop a few Senegalese people off at their homes and took the most random, bumpy, and awkward bus ride of my life through the streets of Touba. I think there might be about 4 paved roads in the entire city (this is the 2nd largest in Senegal remember) and everything else is ridiculously bumpy, covered with water which is most likely sewage, and littered with trash. I was in the back of the bus and quickly realized this was a bad choice when my friends and I proceeded to "catch air" whenever we went over a large bump, pothole, mound of dirt, etc. whish was about every 5 minutes or so! The potholes in Eugene are nothing compared to that bus ride. The second thing worth noting about the bus ride through the city, in fact all the way back to Dakar, was all the attention we received being a large white bus full of toubabs! So many people, especially kids, would wave to us and say hello and if they didn't wave they stared at us for an uncomfortably long amount of time. Now we have been receiving a lot of attention wherever we go, however I have never felt so much like a goldfish in my life! The children are by far the ones who pay us the most attention, which is fine because they are genuine and adorable, however we have been told on many occasions that they believe that shaking our hands will bring them good luck/fortune. Young adults and older people do not believe this but it is interesting the perception little kids have of you. Groups of toubabs are such a rarity here that people tend to do "double takes" a lot, one young man on Ile de Goree filmed us as we walked by a couple weeks ago!

The internship is still going well. Yesterday I got a taste of journalistic (I'm not sure if that's a word) protest. When I arrived at work the man, Ibrahima, that I will be shadowing told me that we would be going to a press conference where Farber Senghor, the Minister of Mobilization in the current government, would be speaking. I was pretty excited about the opportunity to see a head official of the government, I haven't even been able to do that in the U.S.! The conference was going to start at 5 pm so we left a little before 4:30. Upon arriving at the restaurant in downtown Dakar where the conference would be held, Ibrahima and myself were escorted to the front row of the room. I was literally going to be front row center for the conference, all around me were other members of the press, TV crews, and state officials! And I definitely stood out as being one of only a few women there and one of three white people, the other two were frenchmen. However, five o'clock rolled around and no sign of Senghor. Six o'clock rolled around and he was still a no show. Ibrahima left to make a phone call, assuring me that he would be back. At this point in time the room was completely full with many people standing in the back because there were not enough chairs. When 6:30 hit the first three rows of journalists stood up and walked out of the press conference, commenting on how disrespectful this was and they weren't going to take it. Just like that pretty much every journalist and over half the TV crews left! Not 3 minutes later the Minister arrived, mind you I am still sitting in the front row by myself because Ibrahima has not come back yet. All of a sudden he comes up to me, right as the Minister sits down at the front but there is still a lot of comotion, and tells me we are leaving. So as the Minister sits down the rest of the journalists leave the room and all that is left is one TV crew, a couple random journalists, and government supporters. I suppose that just goes to show that here in Senegal the press demand some measure of respect and when they do not feel they are receiving it, they walk out on you. I wondered if that would happen in the U.S. but then I also wondered whether Condoleeza Rice shows up an hour and a half late to her own press conference? Something to think about I suppose.

This weekend we are off to visit the small town of Toucar, which will probably be one of our only rural encounters while staying in the country. It should be an adventure! I promise I will add pictures to this blog in a day, if not later on tonight so be patient I just have to upload them!