We leave you with: a video of a puffer-fish trying to get to the open ocean.
And lastly, some election propaganda and news: a Macky rally pamphlet and the front page newspaper in France.
Macky defeats Wade
Front page of newspaper in France
Macky Sall won the second election tour with 65.8% of the vote (Wade lost with 34.2%). There was a 55% voter turnout.
In the middle of October, I finally got the chance to visit the other half of Senegal. Paul was not able to go due to a few meetings concerning SeneGAD in Dakar, however our friend Evan and I took a little trip to the Kedegou region. The first day we spent traveling–sept-places from Dakar to Tamba, and then Tamba to Kedegou with a lunch break in between with Mika who met us at the Tamba garage. As you drive towards Kedegou, the huts get progressively rounder and the grass roofs steeper, while the overall foliage and tree cover exponentially rises. The Nikola-Koba park straddles the Tamba-Kedegou border, at which point, the trees rise thick and create layers of canopy that are non-existent in the north ofSenegal. Once you hit the border of Kedegou, the road suddenly worsens, turning to a red gravel laterite road where they are rebuilding the road. We watched as the sun sank, casting muted pinks and oranges over dark tree-covered mountains in a scene that is so typical Africa, like a postcard or a National Geographic magazine fold-out. Funny because, as the cold air whipped past me in the shadows of looming trees, I could feel that we were going somewhere that did not fit into my understanding of Senegal.
The Kedegou house is like summer camp, with outdoor sleeping and living space in addition to separate huts for each room of the house—a kitchen hut, a library hut, etc. I slept well that first night, waking in the middle of the night from the wet cold to pull the sheet beneath me around me. That first day, Evan and I explored Kedegou, taking in the city itself–if you could call it that, as Kedegou has no buildings along its main road that are two stories tall. The Pulaar is slightly different—sing-songing “jam toon” instead of the normal stiff “jam tan,” and “a jaraama” used like “aloha” in that it starts and ends every conversation. Evan and I went on a small walk along the Gambia River, silenced by the beautiful red cliffs covered in trees in the distance marking the end of Senegal and the beginning ofGuinea. Birds were everywhere—a violet turaco, its wings shining brilliant red through the rising sun and the sound of a pure-toned angel of a bird too high in the canopy to see. During dinner at the (creatively named) Africa Restaurant, we met an American named Tad, who is a master’s epidemiology student at the Mailman School of Public Health in Columbia University. He was in Kedegou collecting mosquito samples to test for a variety of diseases; the samples get processed typically in Dakar.
Evan near Dindefelo
Dindefelo Falls
The second morning, we set off early with the sun on two bikes and our backpacks to Dindefelo. Volunteers kept warning us of the difficulty of the bike ride, warnings that made us laugh when we did reach Dindefelo –25 km to Segou and another 5 or so km to Dindefelo along laterite roads that were shaded by the trees along the two sides of the road. Rushing through shoulder-high grass among palms and leafy trees that weaken the force of the sun, it was finally comprehensible why Kedegou and Kolda volunteers ride their bikes everywhere. We hiked late morning to the Dindefelo Falls, stopping to take photos of Vervet monkeys. The falls are so beautiful, much more glorious and dramatic than the photos of volunteers captured. The waterfall sits in a U-shaped dead-end of the canyon, the slates of red granite rock creating latticed designs that jut out and are emphasized by the falling water. At the bottom of the falls is a pool with rocks behind the falls to sit on. A group of Dakar folk brought their drum, and with great joy but without suppression, they sang and danced along the edge of the falls to the beating of the drum. After spending a few hours at the falls, we went back to the main part of the town to find some provisions before setting off for Segou.
At Segou, we stayed at Zach’s campement, which overlooks a beautiful valley of cotton and corn fields surrounded on both sides by red-granite cliffs covered in trees. While walking through the valley, red-throated bee-eaters zipped back and forth snagging the bugs that come out at dusk and then returning to trees to whack the bugs against branches. Thap-thap—the bee-eater had found dinner.
Boy napping at Dindefelo Falls
Roots
We were treated to an amazing dinner of funio, a grain that is similar to Moroccan cous-cous in its texture and lightness, and onion sauce that left Evan rolling around in pain from fullness the rest of that evening and me too full to move. The next morning, we ate breakfast and had a surprise run-in with Lily, a chimp researcher who works for the Jane Goodall Institute. There is a chimp family of 10 living in the hills of Segou; Lily studies the most northern group of chimpanzees in Africa.
We then set out for Segou Falls, seeing no-one but a few farmers in the valley for the entirety of the hike. The hiking trail is beautiful in that it is so naturally a part of the riverbed—granite rocks that form the river bed also form a natural trail. Hopping from rock to rock, we picked our way to the falls, marked by an exclamation mark. The Segou falls were also incredibly beautiful, a smaller waterfall that is stunning in its isolation and tranquility. Little light reaches the falls due to the thick trees and canyon that surround the falls and pool. The granite rocks form small steps that impede and slow the fall of the water as it falls into a pool that is deep only at the base of the falls. After our return from this falls, we biked back to Kedegou, the last incredibly long uphill stretch somewhat painful as we climbed to the town.
The next day we headed back to Tamba, spotting two troupes of baboons, warthogs, and a bateleur scavenging a fox-like mammal on the road in the park. We spent the night at the Tamba regional house with Mika and his two kitty friends Colin and Irv (both girls…) and the other Tamba region volunteers. Tamba is a huge city, full of different organizations, ethnic groups, and shops—a crossroads where cars leave everyday forMali. Mika makes us an incredible biscuit, SPAM, egg breakfast before we take the slowest sept-place in existence to Kaolack. In Kaolack, our group of friends has prepared an amazing pasta dinner. And then the next morning to Mbour, back on the coast of Senegal near Thies and Ngekhokh where we spend the day sampling local fruit liquors made by a Belgium family.
From our time in Kedegou, Evan and I assembled this list of differences between Kedegou and the north:
Just a quick update about what we’ve been up to.
Please welcome Thierno (pronounced with a “ch”–french spelling), the newest member of our family:
New family member
Paul giving Thierno a bath
Paul and I have been making our way slowly through the month of Ramadan. The first morning, a neighbor woke the entire neighborhood with his good intentions to remind all to eat an early breakfast before the rising of the sun. He did this by banging on a bucket while running up and down the dirt road that passes by our house. Since then, Paul and I have been fasting halfway—ranging between going the day with only sips of water to eating full meals cooked at the regional house. But as tradition commands, we’ve been breaking fast every evening with dates and tea loaded with milk and sugar (and on good days, a cooler of ice to make a yogurt drink that I adore).
We are finally settling into our neighborhood. I’ve been going around doing a small baseline survey of our neighborhood to understand what some of the health/environmental issues are. So far, I’m seeing lots of issues with malnutrition (among children typically). In addition, I have been helping each Monday and Thursday with baby-weighings and vaccinations at the local health post. I’ve been working my way up to where I can now help fill out information and weigh babies. The health post here has a progressive malnutrition ward that helps women with kids ages 0-5 years who have either health issues or low weight. They get together to cook porridges, milk, and lunch while also discussing some health issues. I am hoping to survey women at this ward and at the baby vaccinations to get a better understanding of what types of factors lead to malnutrition in Ndioum. My guesses are: premature giving of water/weaning foods to children younger than six months and poor maternal nutrition/hygiene.
Amazing to see the difference in birds here in Ndioum. There have been noisy morning choruses by green wood hoopoes, quiet shy purrs from the blue-naped mousebirds, the chuh-chuh-chuhs of the little weaver who perches each morning on the bedlegs of our mosquito net, the slightly out of tune whuoup-whuoup-whuoup duets of the Vieillot’s barbet, and the skype-calls of the common bulbul.
But this morning. Great morning. There is a donkey with a broken front leg; he’s been stumbling his way across the sand the last weeks with pressure on the forearm, dragging the bottom half of his leg (metacarpus and below). On my way to get some bread and beans for breakfast, I walked past him grazing and caught my eye on some bright bills of birds that I knew immediately but had never seen myself in real life. Yell0w-billed oxpeckers! I did not know they existed here in Northern Senegal! And then on the way back from breakfast, a pair of African Grey Hornbills.
They say that when the sky is full of stars, the rabbit is grazing (hojjere aynoyi). And when the sky has few stars, the hyena is grazing (fowru aynoyi). Samba is a good herder who lets his rabbits graze only as much as they need. Demba is the hyena herder who lets his hyenas graze greedily.
Originally uploaded by madeline.tiee
The rains have been coming intermittently. When it rains, it pours in sheets wide as the lightening tall. And after it rains, seasonal lakes form, the soil too fine to absorb the downpour. The geese and children play. The streets are mud. And at night, the toads chorus to their mates in overlapping endless tones that never end all night long except for those small silent breathers when all toads stop together but restart again just as simultaneously. A seamless wave reverberating in and out. Bugs come out that I haven’t seen before. Bright pink fuzzies. Huge gilded-backed beetles mating. Termites that sprout wings and then shed them. Wings litter the ground. Insects eat the previous generation as the new one is born from the rains.
I will never forget the first morning I tried to get our morning bread after a rain. I have now learned that key to walking in mud is s-l-o-w-l-y. Take your time picking out the driest route. If not, you will lose your flip-flop to the mercy of the mud. Then you have to pick it out and find a way to stick your foot back into it, squishing your toes between the mud, attempting to pluck it out gracefully. But. A little girl is following me. Kumba. Eh!? Kumba Ba! She walks around a huge lake of water just to watch me pick my way slowly slowly through the mud.
Learned today in IPM (Integrated Pest Management) that: Fact—hanging a dead monkey (especially if painted red to imitate blood) in your fields will send fear into the hearts of all other monkeys, resulting in monkeys never entering your fields or garden again. Can I do this with the kids that destroy my trees and garden too? Mi fijat. I am only joking…
How do I describe Podor? Its a beautiful town–an old French fort. Old crumbling French colonial-era brick buildings line the slate blue water of the Senegal River. Rumors exist of crocodiles that hide in the shade of trees but I believe there are only manatees that arrive with the rain. The Senegalese have the saying that “the river is not friendly to strangers.” Podor is unlike many other towns in Senegal in that it does not have a main road running through it to other places but is built on a grid system. It is not a road town like Ngekhokh; Route National runs right to it and then spreads into many other roads. Podor is a pedestrian town and most villagers go by foot, bike, or charet. The central market area provides us with all the food, veggies, resources we need. The town is divided into quartiers and we live in the Sinthiane quartier near the garage in a two-story building owned by the family that runs the weather station in Podor. We actually live in a Wolof quartier which makes using our Pulaar a little difficult. There are 4 primary schools, 1 college (middle school), 1 lycee (high school), 2 techinical schools, 1 dispanseer, 1 health post, gardens upon gardens that line the river. Podor is actually on an island (Ile de Moreil) where to the north is the Senegal River and to the south a fork of the river.
We have adopted the Bassoum family as our own–a family that has hosted two other PCVs in the past. There is the mother Huwa Ba who works with the Tostan women in a garden. She has informed me that Podor has taken the Tostan pledge to end female genital circumcism. Maimouna, her daughter, is married to a Spaniard called Babakar from the Basque area. Her daughter Jibina is adorable and I call her ulundu (cat) because of her habit of running around on all four. There is also Aidou, Bassine, Hawh, Abday, Aminata, Bizzou, and Ching-Ching (abdou). Aido, Bassine, Maimouna, and Hawh are the kids of Huwa. But the other kids are mostly cousins or children of cousins.
Our closest neighbors are Evan Spark-Depass in Sinchu Diambo and Jono Larson in Taredji. One lovely day we biked down to Evan’s little 100-some fishermen village. Beautiful ride south through dry savanna dotted with acacias, passing over the river and the women and children carrying benoirs and baskets of laundry and dishes to wash. Flat road all the way past little mud villages that remind me of New Mexican adobe homes, two huge white and turquoise mosques, and scenery so beautiful that for the first time since install I was shouting into the wind I can’t believe I live here! At Evan’s site, we swam across the river to our island to look for monkeys. None seen, but along the bike ride home we spotted a troop of monkeys (vervet I believe?) running from the trees towards the fields. Never in my life could I imagine stopping alongside a road to watch monkeys run into the distance.
One day we went fishing with the father of the Beye family. He is at least in his sixties but was diving into the water with his hooked stick to snag catfish hidden between the rocky walls of the old pier. With this strange tool he caught 4 beautiful fish in 30 minutes.
We have met with the school director of Gila primary school. Gila is the town between Sinchu Diambo and Podor where we cross the river. They are in desperate need of better latrines. We are going to take a look near the end of the month to see how it looks. There are some easy grants we can apply for to get these small projects done.
One day Babakar wanted to eat fataya (these delicious oil-fried dumplings filled with a ground fish and dipped in onion pepper sauce). So Maimouna and I tried to make some. They turned out terrible. Paul and I feared the worst—explosive tummy from eating raw fish. Aleson Diallo (a somewhat crazy homeless man related to the family) wandered in. We handed him 4 and he handed each of them back one after another after tasting them individually. Babakar went to market to buy some made by another family. In the end, only the sheep and goats would eat our fataya. Their hunger is so great–I once witnessed a goat tear the paper packaging off a cement sack for food. Hmmm.
Everyday. We wake, exhausted and hot, to the call to prayer from the three immediate mosques in our quartier. Our bed is a constant sweat stain. I sweep the house almost everyday. A paper left on the ground in the morning looks a hundred-days old by afternoon. We have started gardening in our front yard—a pepineere of 200-sacks for now and a small garden. But it should be interesting to see how it fares as I am gardening in almost pure sand with a little cow manure sprinkled on top. We eat village bread for breakfast, marroy e liddi (rice and fish) for lunch at the Bassoums, and usually lacciri and milk for dinner. My brain is a constant mess of French and Pulaar. Our family speaks both fast, explaining everything in French which does not help me at all as I think my Pulaar is better than my French at this moment. I swat at invisible flies, only to find it is my own sweat dripping down my legs. And through it all, the dust heat confusion kids chanting, I think I will really come to love living here.
The night before we left for the North of Senegal, the night before our install (what PC calls the date that volunteers are dropped off at their site), I happened upon the greatest surprise. I believe — a Atelerix albiventris (Four-toed Hedgehog or aka the African Pygmy Hedgehog). Found her digging in the leaf litter near my room with the dried carcass of a frog of some sort locked in her little jaws. Picked her up and put her near the light. She unfurled slowly, only after she heard the footsteps of my companion receding into the dark. Then scattered. She ran faster than I imagined a hedgehog could run, her little feet taking quick steps. Beautiful little shy creature. I must admit, I picked her up again and put her in the light. Just to watch her unfold again.
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Paul
Maddy
