Go figure (don't give it away until you're gone)

Just yesterday, I was told by the new Chef de Base (Base manager) here in Fatick that my capris no longer cut it for proper office attire. I am now required to wear pants.

Unfortunately for Alex, he sent a few pairs home with his sister and a few others were just given away to one of the villages . . .

I guess I'll have to make do with my one remaining, cream coloured khakis. Ah ha ha ha ha ha!

Although, apparently my thiya still counts (whoot whoot), and so might my blue capris if I can sneak them in every now and again (they sort of resemble 'way to short' short pants)

Meh. 4 weeks.

Or I'll just wash my cream khakis every few days . . .

Ah ha ha ha ha ha.

Mango juice and chocolate cruesli

Who needs milk in cereal?!?. This is pretty good.

Waiting for my coffee to brew, figured I'd post another one.

I have 5 more malaria pills to swallow in Senegal. So not only was my vacation over just as soon as it started, so will my internship in the country of Senegal. I'm very grateful and excited about a focus, about something that I know I can apply myself to for the remaining 5 weeks. I'm just as excited about some things of home as I know I am and will be disappointed about some things I will be leaving behind in Senegal.

Today was a day on the beach. There's a very beautiful strip along the west coast of the city of Dakar, running along the northern section of Avenue Cheikh Anta Diop which has some great beaches and some great waves. Today, I took advantage of full blue skies, great temperatures, and a gentle, softly warm wind. Hung out with Anna, Shannon, and Sandra. There sometimes appear to be more girls in Senegal than guys, at least amongst the ex-pat community. Oh well. . . . ah ha ha ha ha. (actually, I had never seen Shannon before and Sandra only 2 times previously. We're gonna grab a bite to eat tonight and maybe hit up the clubs tonight (that would also basically be a first for me during my entire time here in Senegal) ).

(oh, and sorry if the sea and sunny skies bothers some of you. Since I don't get the joy of gorgeous fall weather, I have to rub in what I have to work with . . . I think I'll hit the beach just before I jump on the plane to come home on the 30th of November. That might be a good idea . . . ah ha ha ha)

But yes, this coming week, I need to translate an English workshop tool into French, learn about it, and then teach it to others (on Wed) (or else make it evidently clear to them what it's all about).

The week following is the first of two workshops. Two days. Then prep for the second workshop and the cycle repeats itself.

As a result of the changes, I'll have 1 week for time for follow up in the villages about the workshops. And time for an information session with World Vision Senegal staff that I think more and more is pretty important to do the further along I get into the exercise I'm planning.

Then three final days in the nation's capital.

All in all, I'm pretty excited about the final phase of my internship.

Feel free to let me know what you might like as a souvenir . . . I've got plenty, but if any of you have some cool suggestions, I'll looking it.

I might try to smuggle some young, dormant Baobab trees across the borders. Or maybe not smuggle if it's allowed. Anyone want one? I think they're pretty cool . . .

Over before it started et les voleurs de Dakar

This past week was my vacation. Overall, it was fantastic. However, it was fast and it was short.

My sister arrived on Sunday, early morning, round 4:30 am, without any incident. We crashed till about noon, toured Dakar, and then made sure to sleep well that night.

Monday, we traveled to Fatick. We spent the day there, visiting a few co-workers, refusing multiple marriage proposals (although the offer of 60 cows was tempting). We saw the market place in Fatick, and we made a visit with Betty Reno and Laura, the two ex-pats with whom I've spent a lot of time over the past 5 months.

Tuesday, off we went to the village of Thiouthioune. I think Jozina got a better sense of what village life is like. Hot, dry, slow, and if you don't speak the local language, even more slow and boring than it would be if you at least speak French. But French doesn't cross all barriers either. Regardless, she wasn't too much a fan of the couscous, nor of the couscous with sweetened sour milk. She could live without 'atiya', the local Senegalese tea, and Café Touba wasn't a real thriller either. While she did eat the Djebu Jen (fish and rice), the fish was bought by me and thus a higher quality than is usual in the villages. And overall, I think she cut down a bit on her eating (although her appetite was also pretty low given the heat)

We ended up returning to Fatick at night, slowly wandering our way through the fields (following the sandy trails, mind you), directed by a few of the local teachers who caught a ride to Fatick from us. They provided the orientation, so that was a pretty good trade off.

Wednesday was a day of good and bad. The Bandia Reserve was excellent. Romping through the reserve, chasing after Giraffes and Rhinoceros. Couldn't do something like that at the African Lion Safari. Some good sites, some good pics.
On arriving in Ndagane, however, that's when things turned sour. Already tired from the day, frustrated by all the annoying negotiating one has to do in order to get somewhere and in order not to pay an unjust price, when we arrived at the hotel, I wasn't impressed. The pool wasn't that great, things were unkempt. Our room was dirty when we entered, and then, when we did switch rooms, they (I'm not kidding you) locked us in our room. After 5 minutes of pounding on the window pane, finally someone came. They said we had the key, we never even touched it, said they'd go try to find this lost second pair, and so we waited. And waited. While they had given us the spare key, we were mostly waiting for an apology. But, there was none. In fact, when we went out briefly to see how things were coming along, we found them all sitting around a table, talking away. So, that was the end of our stay at Les Cordons Bleus. Never to be recommended to anyone by me. At 80 USD a night, I would have expected to be treated by royalty, given that this is even a price charged in a place like Senegal.
The French can be so arrogant sometimes.

So, we jumped over to the simple, quaint hostel beside the hotel. Much, much simpler, half the price (even though on some level it wasn't worth that price either). But, the staff made all the difference. Bought us orange juice in the morning when we requested it, offered to go get and prepare our lunch on the Thursday, drove us into town with all of our luggage when we left Thursday evening. The main manager was a great guy.

5 hours after leaving the hostel, we finally arrived, tired and cramped from our ride in a 7 place station wagon, in Dakar. Crashed at New Tribes Mission. Probably my preferred resting spot in Dakar. Some great services included in the low price of 4600 CFA / night. Can't be beat.

And today, well, overall, today was great. Although, I'm sad to say I didn't do my job very well. We overpaid for a few key items we bought. Still, I think that it would probably take me about 1 year to get it all figured out. And even then there would be things that surprise me.

It was a pretty long day wandering around the markets of Dakar, continually shrugging off pestery sellers and occasionally thankfully avoiding scuffles after being called racist and being told that I should leave the market and go home to Canada by upset sellers, who, by the way, 20 minutes later, wanted to sell me something (losers). It can be tiring having to put up with their scheming and scamming.

All the same, en route to the French Cultural Centre in the evening, after the markets, I am content to report that I successfully fought off being stolen from.
There were 3 guys, all 'selling' things. Except, they stated pretty normal, acceptable prices. Clue number 1. Clue number 2. They were too happy. Number 3. They started grabbing my shorts, saying, wow, those are great shorts, great shoes etc. Then they started tugging and swishing my shorts. It was odd. And then they stopped. And in the back of my mind, something started wondering. I checked my pockets, and I had been checking my pockets during this time anyways. But, I double checked. We were about 15 seconds down the road, however, and they started really going at my shorts. I was like, 'what the heck are you doing?' All my senses on high, knowing that something was going down. And then, in the middle of their shaking and tugging my shorts, there was a hand reaching into my pocket . . .

And then there was me, shoving my hand against the third guy, pushing and shoving him into the side of the building at the side of the road. And then I went for his neck. Hand on his neck, my face burning, my eyes flashing, my adrenaline pumping, my heart burning so hard with anger, frustration, and fatigue of all that is sometimes Senegal. Of people who never stop asking for your money when sometimes I believe they should be working for it. Of people who state one price and then fail to live up to it. Of people who see white and only think of money. Of people who are as happy to sell you something as they are angry when you actually know the real price and simply cut to the chase.

Given the events of the day, and my level of frustration, this attempt by this 3 guys placed the piece of straw that broke the camels back. And I blew up. I yelled at that guy in English so hard, and drove at him so quickly. I didn't care what the other two were doing because I knew if I confronted this guy hard and forcefully, the other two would leave me alone or risk their friend being seriously injured if I started throwing punches.

At any rate, I shoved him away, yelling at him some more, threatened them not to come near me, and not to touch me again. And then I stormed off.

As odd as it might sound, I was thoroughly content. A little frightened perhaps, but there was a bunch of angst against some cultural stress that had been building up that was unleashed in those few moments. I let out against personal frustrations, against cultural nuisances, and against past failures. Against a time I was beat up (mildy) outside a bar in Guelph, against times in my life (grade school, high school, and even in university) when I've just stood there taking a beating or being threatened with one, instead of standing up for myself. It was a chance, finally, to simply show that I had had enough. These boys just picked the wrong time.

And so no, no one was hurt, and no one got into a fight. I just made it perfectly clear I wasn't going to stand there and get messed with.

So, that was an exciting event of this evening.

And so off we went to the French Cultural Centre. Watched a drum show. It was fantastic.

And then it was over. And then I had to go back with Jozina back to the hostel, to pack up our things, to make our way to the airport. As I write, it's 2:00 am. She will be flying out of the airport in just 1/2 hr's time. So, our time was well spent, but also very short. We did a whirlwind tour of all that is Senegal, and I think she got a good sense of what the country is like in just a few short days.

And, today is a day to mark on the calendar. In 5 weeks time, exactly to the date, I'll be back in Canada. You might be able to pick up in the post that things have been tough at times. There's a lot to have to deal with overseas sometimes. Overall, it's been a good and worthwhile experience. I'm very much looking forward to the next 5 weeks, and extremely curious to know where it all leads at the end.

But, I am looking forward to certain aspects of home. Of coffee at Starbucks or Tims. Of cold. Of snow. Of relaxing days and evenings when things just 'are' and I don't have to think so much.

Still, there is an energy in the rush, tug, push, and pull of working overseas. If I can find something properly suited for me, I'll want to find myself somewhere else in the world in the future. Perhaps even Senegal, despite all the ups and downs.

Only time will tell, and for now, I'll just work on these next 5 weeks . . .

Scorpions, Thiya, Headaches, and Satisfying work

In response to a few blog posts: were my Thiya gold, they wouldn't be offered as a sacrifice to encourage a bloke to drop the habit when it's highly unlikely that will ever be a reality. Whatever. If I do happen to return with Golden Thiya, touch them not. Or thou shalt loseth thy handethness.
. . .

I write some interesting words in my interesting title in the hopes that you might find it interesting.

Headaches: I suffered today. It's been a long time since. And I'm willing to believe that the heat is partly to blame. The thought crossed my mind that I've repeated told myself that I don't sweat here like back home. So, why would it be dehydration. I fail to remember, often, though, that dry heat doesn't cause you to notice the sweat as readily because it doesn't stay on you as much as with humid heat. So, my headaches are likely to have something to do with that.

All the same, there have been a few times that I have directly pushed on the shunt valve to see if it would pop up on its own. The doctor, when I was in the hospital last, did that to me once. I thought it was illegal, that doctor police would rush in and handcuff him. But, no. And apparently, that's still an appropriate action to do because if it doesn't pop back up, that's a bad sign. But, it should always pop back up.

So, finally, tonight, I did that. And it took awhile. So, I'm a little concerned. It's fine right now, but I was like, what?!? Jeez, let's get popping. But, whatever. I'm praying for 6 weeks of time so that I can do something that I feel I finally understand the direction and structure of. And all the learning in the villages has led me here, so I really don't plan on throwing in the towel just quite yet, not after all that time and effort, frustration and learning.

. . .

Scorpions. They do exist in West Africa. And thankfully they don't kill you, otherwise, well, I'd be dead . . . I thought I had put my stomach against something burning or against a fiercer version of some of the biting ants they have here in Senegal. But no, in between the door and the door frame was a scorpion. And it stung me. (bad word, towards the scorpion).
I looked at it, though, 'hey, that looks like a scorpion'. And then I looked at it, and wow, it was a scorpion. And then I thought, hmm, if I suddenly start feeling faint, oh man . . . so, off I went romping to find me a book that would tell me if I was about to die.

I'm grateful there are no deadly versions of scorpions in West Africa . . .

. . .

As I've already alluded to, my work, despite being really intense this past week, has been really satisfying. I tend, as everyone must know by now, to sometimes do things in long-winded form. I realized that a few of the documents I slaved away at during my planning days for the Workshop planning days (so, the planning for the planning), well, they weren't that useful. And should've been abbreviated. So, they are now. But, they weren't then. Oh well.

Yesterday and today were long planning sessions where I learned that the planning I had done wasn't enough (not a huge surprise), and that we would have to expand what I was doing in a few ways. Workshop dates have been re-arranged, a new 'Jour de Harmonization' (a day of planning to make sure certain invitees are thinking the way we want them to be) was planned for each ADP where I worked.

Despite all of this, and because of it, really, because it means there are tangible and exciting things to do, my work has been satisfying this past week. For this, I am extremely thankful.

I'm also grateful for available money for the workshops, even while I haven't seen any of it yet. I'll be reimbursed all the same, and I haven't spent much of my own for the workshops to date. I won't be able to spend more anyways because I really don't have that much money at present. Except the money for my vacation.

Yes, priorities.

. . .

Well, I want to be rested for my day of work tomorrow. So, off to bed I go. I want to wake up well, without a headache.





We'll see.

my white thiya and the workshop saga

Ah yes, if World Vision has taught me one thing (or has got me learning about it) is how to be flexible to changes.

All the funding for my workshops wasn't transferred between FY 07 and FY 08. Meaning, that even though they're working on finding funding from a different source, I'm pretty sure officially on paper right now, there's no money for the workshops that I've just spent the last 2 days and 20 hours of work trying to prepare for . . .

But, really, quite frankly, we can still do them without any budget whatsoever. That's the beauty of them. We won't feed anyone, but they can feed themselves because it's happening in the villages. We might lose a few State reps, but the people whom the workshops concern the most, well, they'll still be there.

So, if you ask me, if worse came to worse, I'd just do them on my own money. I'm paid well enough here to do that (to fund, of course, the much more simplified version of the workshops). Or at least 1 or 2 of them. I'm not sure after that . . . !
....
At any rate, that's not going to happen. There will be money, and by the time I come back from my vacation, everything will have fallen into place.



I hope.
....

So, did I tell you about my white Thiya? Well, my sort of white thiya? Okay, my white thiya that I spilled chocolate spread all over today . . . I washed most of it out, and eventually, when it fades to dusty brown, it'll fit right in!

My white Thiya. The glory of Senegal. Pants. Made out of 5 meters of material. Watch Aladdin again and then just attach the bottom of his pants, poke two holes in the bottom for feet, and double the width (which you then bunch up as you make it fit your waist).

As you might very well understand, I love them. And so do my Senegalese friends. Or co-workers. I can actually say that some of them have become friends. Friends I will miss. But friends without much depth, a product of a lack of time (my running into villages all the time never helped), my avoidance for quite some time, and language barriers. But, they're still friends all the same, and they love my pants. Or, more accurately, they like a white boy in Mourride pants. Or Bi-Fall. I can't remember what religious group . . . At any rate, I also have very colourful, patchwork Bi Fall pants to show off when I get home.

I think I'll wear them to the World Vision Canada office a few times. I'm sure it'd be acceptable attire (one of the only places in the world where this would be so . . .)

But yes, my white Thiya I am hoping to keep relatively white. I also plan on buying two more, which are NOT white. They shall be all mine! And I shall wear them. And I shall love them. And they shall not give me wedgies. And they shall not be see through when wet (except the white ones). And they shall be cool.

K, I've been in the office FAAAAAR too long, and I need to jet.
Plus, my head hurts. Sort of.
But what else is new.
'Stupid head' is sometimes stated as a mockery of someone. Mine would be an adjective for my head . . .
And no, it's not that bad. It's probably dehydration anyways. It's pretty warm here right now. 35 degrees I'm sure. Compared to your ungodly 10. Can't wait for it.

Write me.

Hurting ears and the Jesus excuse

I like creating sort of bizarre titles. Perhaps they'll get people's attention.
. . .
NEways, I guess it's been just a little while since I last posted. It's 8 pm, and I'm still at the office. I say that sounding proud, and then I realize that there are millions of people who do that every day . . . Just, sitting at a computer and thinking for about 9 - 10 hours, regardless of what people say, can still be tiring . . .
. . .
My ears hurt, not because I have an infection but because I've been listening to my music almost non-stop during most of this day. Which has helped to motivate me through a lot of the reading and planning I've been doing. There's a song by Erika called 'I Don't Know' on the DanceFox Vol 1 cd that I received from the German couple that befriended me while I was tenting it on my own in Barcelona . . . I love how that sentence makes complete sense. Germans helping a Canadian. All are chilling out on the beaches of Barcelona . . . ah ha ha ha.

At any rate, things are slowly and very quickly piecing themselves together for the workshops. I've been spending the last few days trying to plan the Workshop Planning Days, to make sure things are addressed properly, completely, and efficiently.
. . .

The second part of the title has a slighly deeper meaning. Much of my time in Senegal has been rough. I can be the first to admit it, but also the first to understand why. There are many reasons:
- Not letting go of my friends (but knowing now that we're all moving on and that when I come back home, I'm no longer expecting things to be the same even while they will still be).
- Not really taking to 'agriculture' as much as I might have thought. This is still an ongoing thought process. Environment, yes. Agriculture? Not sure. But, the major question remaining is, Was it because I had no idea what I was doing that I don't like I like agriculture? Or is it the opposite? That because I'm not so keen on agriculture, I didn't know what I was doing and therefore didn't enjoy my time as well as I could have? Mind you, there's a lot to be said for not having designed my village visits well at all. I feel I should have known, but apparently and obviously did not. Oh well. That dimension would have helped everything. But, at least I got to learn the lesson.
- I've had a hard time connecting with the people that live here. That's odd, overall. I think there's something to be said here. I've connected well with the ex-pats, and a few people from whom I buy my groceries. And some of the youth of the Roman Catholic church that I rarely go to. But, still, I've found ways to fill the gaps, and travling over the weekends has been one of the ways. Mostly to get away from Fatick or to visit an ex-pat or chill in Dakar. I've really enjoyed this aspect of my time here, however, and it made a huge difference to everything by about early August.

But, these reasons to the side, here's the more major reason why it was rough: I wasn't able to see how my work matched my calling. While it's still not defined, the point finally drove itself home one day. I'm not sure entirely how, but it did.

It's not really going to be about what I'm doing as much as what I'm doing with what I'm doing. Get it? So, knowing whether I like agriculture versus the environment is important yes. But, what I was ignoring or refusing to give myself over to was this: no matter where I am, I am still able to serve the Lord. Obvious, eh? But, don't use the line 'I need to be serving the Lord according to my call' as an excuse not to work . . .

If you could see it, most of the issues I've been struggling with have a lot to do with personal pride and selfish greed. I think. Can't let go of my money. Can't simply take the time to listen to people, come along side them, come along the poor for fear of having to live like them.

Just, I have to start learning to do this wherever I am because is it just going to go away when I go home to Canada? It will if I revert to the boredom that repulsed me away from my country in the first place. And I can't go back to that. Don't really want to.

So, either I start living 'on the edge between light and darkness' (where all Christians should be striving to be near or moving towards) in Canada or abroad. I'm down with either, but I have to stop being comfortable. And I have to start working . . . life isn't really what it used to be. i.e. I'm not in school anymore. aha ha ha.

So, if I'm unwilling to think, unwilling to apply myself, unwilling to go into uncomfortable places, unwilling to see Jesus where he is active in every corner of the world do that in every aspect of my living, nothing will be fulfilling. Because at certain points, work is simply work. Parts of it are cool. Other parts suck. They're just work. So, thinking that because I don't like my work in some ways that therefore I'm not fulfilling my 'call' is, I think I'm learning, wrong.

I do still need to figure out what specific aspect of development I'm most passionate about. This will help. But, I'm more sure now than before that it is in development. Just, not necessarily agriculture . . . And regardless, this doesn't give me the excuse to not work.

The other dimension in all of this is me being willing to accept that, really, I don't think I want to link myself to a 'mission board' because then you get caught up in doctrinal and denominational squabblings. If I'm not linked to a denomination, then it becomes merely about sharing the gospel, not sharing the gospel according to the CRCers, the SoBaps, the Presbys, or the Lutherians. I just have no interest in getting caught up in that.

Development has it's own squabblings, but when I talk with people that I meet around the world, it won't have as much to do with whether we think Jesus wants us to submerge or sprinkle when baptizing. Just, that I'm trying to bring people to the point where they're willing to be baptized. That's seems a more exciting thing to be focusing on.

Oh, and if I don't want to think, I guess I can just go to the nearby KFC or McDonalds and work there . . .

Oh, and of course, yes, this post is all about my thoughts. Again. Sorry. And not that clear. I know. Oh well. Sorry. Just think about it . . .

Questionable bread and the full exploitation of first aid

Every morning (almost), I buy bread from a seller who has a boutique about 100 m from my house. While I know where the bread comes from (it arrives in the back of a taxi, having been brought there from the village boulagerie), sometimes I wonder in what state it arrives. At any rate, it usually tastes half decent. Just, by the time it gets to me, I often wonder how many hands have touched it and what has been on the hands of those who have touched it . . . But ah, such is life, and I have yet to get seriously sick my whole time being here.
. . .
I've noticed that if you get a cut or an open sore on the ankle of your foot, right by your sandal strap, it can take a very long time to heal. As a consequence, finally I dove into my first aid kit, which is full of happy treasures waiting to be used for the sake of my health. I appreciate that red bag more than ever before, although I find it rather ironice that I've used it not while in the villages but while in the city . . . But, the thing is loaded with meds, bandages, alcohol wipes, and even, as I discovered for the first time when I opened it up for the first time only a few weeks ago, medications! For diarrhea, cold, and headaches. Why I was buying medications, I don't know . . . ah ha ha ha ha.
. . .

I am alone, at the moment. My housemates have moved out. I spent last night not wasting the evening away by watching a few movies (although I did watch one episode of "Heroes"). No, I cleaned out our kitchen. It was disgusting. Still, I bleached the floor, and wiped down the walls somewhat. Emptied out a whack of junk that was in it. I like my kitchen a lot more now!

I made note of two things: truly, I was living with bachelors (well, even if they did have kids, in that house, they lived alone while in Fatick) and second, the maid didn't do a very good job of cleaning.

But, with the boys goes the maid. So, now, finally, for the first time, I have the kitchen to myself, and perhaps I'll have to find someone to start cleaning out my house on a daily basis. Except, she'll actually clean well, not like this other woman . . . And, I also have to find someone else to do my laundry . . .
. . .

A new family, however, is moving into the two other rooms, but they are WV workers, so I'm sure it will be a beneficial thing.
. . .
NEwho, that's all for now. I gotta get to my day.

Home sooner than I wanted

No, don't worry. I'm not sick. I'm not coming home toute de suite.

However, my ticket obligates me to be home in Toronto on the 30th of November. So, because of my eager desire to chill out (or sweat out!) in Senegal for another month, I've sort of lost Paris.

Sort of. I'll have 24 hours.

Enough time to do what I wanted to do, but sadly not the 4 day layover I wanted. Tant pis.
. . .
Oh, unless I wanted to pay the $4000 difference to upgrade my ticket from 6 months to 1 year . . . ah ha ha ha ha ha
. . . . . . . .

Currently, I have a second address here in Fatick. Write me, if you want. It's the office. Boo.
. . .

I also seem to have probably lost les Conventions Locales. The contact 'on the other end' wanted to put everything in a professional context, which was a little much. He didn't receive his little letter from World Vision, so he didn't oblige me with the names of contacts at the village level. So, I had my WV supervisor handle it. Except, I think it's too little too late given how much would need to be arranged in such a short period of time.

If that route falls through, I will spend the next week hopefully re-visiting the villages where RNA is being praticed. There's still a lot there I wasn't able to pick up on.
. . .

Actually, the only reason why I'm still sitting here is that I'm waiting to pay for the change to my e-ticket. But, I have to wait my turn.
The Air France system is horrible. Waaaaay too long of a wait for the customer. Craziness.
The song on their 'you wait here and do nothing' system is really annoying . . . Slow and boring ...
. . .

At any rate, I got a lot of things accomplished today. I'm looking forward to an evening of eating I don't know what. I wanted to cook something, but I won't have enough time, given it's 7:00 pm already, and I want to have some time to do nothing for a change.
. . .
Hey! I'm through! Making my changes to my flight now! Yaaa. I can go home soon!
. . .

I've also been able to deal with my house situation. My housemates have moved out today. But, another co-worker is coming tomorrow or the day after and taking the other two rooms. It's pretty neat, because I was a bit worried about having the money for this particular month. (just because there are things I've been willing to help out with that put me at a partial shortage for the time being . . .)

NEways, I've just got off the phone. I'm outta here.

22 minutes

I should leave the American's house in Fatick by 9:30. That gives me 22 minutes. So, for my purposes, this 'hour' has 22 minutes. (sorry about the pathetic line just then)

It's Wednesday, and I came back from a short stint 'hovering above' the villages (didn't sleep in the village, and was in and out during these past two days)
Saw a project on Natural Regeneration that WV is starting up near Baba Garage. It's a neat project, despite it requiring a lot of external capital. All development projects appear to demand that, mind you.

I am encouraged, all the same, by some of the people that are working on it: Leopold Diouf and Rabiou Husseini. Rabiou was hired by WV and sent from Niger where they have implemented an impressive natural regeneration project. He is a neat little fellow, very passionate about what he's doing. I think his dynamism adds a huge element to the current success of the program.
. . .
Wanting to explore perceptions, however, still always ends up being an interesting process. Because it's hard to peel back the layers, to see what the real reasons are. Mind you, with all the repetition, I'm beginning to wonder how much is really there to peel back versus how much is simply, 'that's just what they honestly think'.
. . .
So, the purpose of my 'workshops' I think, will be to try to understand to what degree people actually value the trees and given that value, how they feel they might be able to come together to address the constraints that are there keeping them from protecting the trees. At any rate, there are a bunch of things I have to talk with my supervisor about.
. . .
Everything seems to be last minute here. Tomorrow is Thursday, and I will have to see whether things for les Conventions Locales have actually fallen into place. I called my contact the other day, and he told me that because he hadn't received a letter from WV that he wasn't going to give me the contact info. I told him that letter was supposed to have been sent. He told me that he hadn't received it and thus . . . So I called Mansour Fall, my WV supervisor and asked him to see what he could arrange . . . don't know where things stand. That gives me tomorrow and Friday, as well as Saturday and Sunday, to prepare for a stay in a village.
. . .
I realize that to get my work done, I've had to do a lot more of the logistics planning than I would have thought. This is empowering and time consuming, all at the same time. And because it takes time, it takes away from me being able to really figure out how to do my work effectively.
The on going challenge that I'm fully realizing now is that it is utterly about asking good questions, and clear questions. And anyone that knows me knows that I get convoluted, even when I don't want to be. Plus, this I'm trying to do this all in French and then it's being translated into Wolof or Serer . . .
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Yesterday was one of the first times I told myself that I didn't really have to go home. Community is slowly building within the ex-pat community, and I'm slowly getting comfortable with people in some of the villages I've been apart of. I understand better now a lot of the reasons for the challenges of the first half of this internship. And the challenges haven't left; just, they've changed form.
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We were in the market today, and I ended up ordering a 'thiya' to be made. Watch 'Aladdin' and look at his pants . . . that's right! Except, these are attached at the bottom. They're wicked cool to look at, and I'll for sure be looking to have a second pair made. These ones are white, so I'll only be able to wear it for special occassions (church or special parties and such).
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I have a tonne of souvenirs, and I'm slowly trying to give away all of my stuff in my room. I need to make room for all the souvenirs . . .
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NEwho, I need to be looking to head out. Write me if you get the chance, whoever wants to write me.

I have a lot of work to do over the next few days . . .
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Oh, and on October 13 or 14 (2nd weekend from now), I'll be 'celebrating' Korité with a muslim family in Thiès. I was invited over by the family of the Peace Corps volunteer that I went to go visit last weekend. I plan on wearing my Thiya! It should be good times.
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Oh, and if I am in the village on October 10, that'll be an entirely new experience for me also . . .
I'll have to find an evening when I can throw myself a party . . . 24. Jeez. I'll be old like the rest of you.
In fact, I'll be in a village, if that happens, for Jackie and Jolene's birthday's too! Craziness.
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NEwho, I'm out!