Dude, Where's Paul?

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The Dancing Tree

2007-08-18T05:55:00.000-07:00

Near my village there’s a tree. This tree is THE tree for my villagers and surrounding villages. This tree not only has umph….it has a really old and traditional myth associated with its existence. The locals all believe the tree belongs to a cranky genie. In American culture, one is expected to rub a shiny lamp to bring about a magical genie to grant you your 3 wishes. In Senegalese culture, one is expected to be outside of your house during the hours of 1pm-3pm and a little peek-a-boo at 7pm-8pm to bring about our supernatural friends. Ah, but of course genies here in Africa are naturally soul-eaters. During those hours, we don’t leave our family compound in fear of losing our souls. Even though all of it is a load of BS aimed at keeping the children at bay, the adults still avoid going out during those times as well. It’s all about tradition, and a huge ass hollowed out tree that our neighbor Babacar the Soul-Eating Genie resides. (I have pictures)

The name of this specific tree is "Bak o mβechan", which means "The Dancing Tree." It is said that the dancing genie will only come out if you dance for him. In addition, he will only show up if he approves of your dancing. It sounds as if he might be a little too picky about his entertainment. Many people from around the area come to dance for the tree, but most go home unsatisfied, unable to erect the sleeping spirit. My village has only one lady who has been able to awaken the genie. There were many people that witnessed this bizarre and eccentric phenomenon. She promises me that she danced her little heart out then dropped to her knees and waited for a response. Suddenly the genie came out of nowhere and ‘laughed at her’. Naturally genies cannot be seen, only heard. Everyone there that day heard the laughs as well. I admit this only once, but I too danced for Babacar the Soul-Eating Genie and now part time dance critic. Even though nothing happened when I tried to impress a tree with my killer tree genie dance moves, doesn’t mean the spirit won’t come out and play for the next goofy white kid who isn’t a TRUE BELIEVER.

Peptobismol Dreams

2007-08-18T05:53:00.000-07:00

I’ve noticed that people in my village are addicted to over-the-counter medicine. It really doesn’t matter if they’re sick or not. They need it. It also doesn’t matter what kind of medicine they ask for. They’ll take anything, especially if it’s free. Most people use the sore back excuse until I tell them I don’t have anything for that. Then they ask what I do have and suddenly they have stomach issues. Truthfully I think they love the taste of my Peptobismol. It’s the closest thing to candy that they’re going to get. Thank God I don’t have any of that delicious candy coated Advil.

What’s that? Sore fingers? Here, have a nice and tasty cough drop- It’s cherry……

Jean's Coming

2007-08-18T05:49:00.000-07:00

It took me a long time to learn the word for alcohol. Since this is a Muslim society nobody uses the term. I on the other hand love the word and wish I had more of it from time to time. The word for alcohol is the same for every language here in Senegal, but was created by the Sereers. They call it sangara. I thought the origin of this word was interesting enough to write about and share with all of you. During the French colonization here in West Africa many things were exported from Europe to meet the living standards of Frenchmen living abroad. Alcohol existed for many years before the colonization of Senegal, but nobody here had ever experienced the goods. A wealthy merchant by the name Jean was the sole source for importing sangara to rich industrialists and opportunity seekers alike. During that time the Sereer people held the power over all the other ethnic groups, even the current leadership- the Wolofs. The Sereer King dealt a lot with the French, especially with imports and exports (later it became the export of slaves to Europe and the Americas).

The wealthy merchant, Jean, decided to reach out past his normal clients and introduced his products to the Senegalese locals, predominately the non-Muslims. From then on, every time the African people on the coast saw Jean’s ship and flag, they would yell out "Jean a gar a," which means "Jean is coming". Though at that time, even now, the Senegalese had trouble pronouncing the letter J, and it sounded more along the lines of a hard S sound. The speed at which they spoke was fast so the words all came together as one, san-a-gar-a……into sangara.

(Historical facts shown may or may not be true. My village likes to boast)

Creepy's Cow

2007-08-18T05:46:00.000-07:00

In April someone stole my African mother’s cow. This sucks since it was my family’s only one. It really sucks because now the rains have come and we’ve been planting our crops. Instead of using a nice sturdy cow to help in our endeavors, we’re stuck with a half-blind albino horse and a donkey who’d rather try taking the skin off your shins than even thinking about working for the man.

Early morning Wednesday July 11, 2007, Fatou Sengor noticed that she saw one of her cows at the weekly market being sold. She could have sworn that that cow looked exactly like hers. Then she saw the man doing the selling. He looked exactly like creepy Babacar, because…it was creepy Babacar (Everyone in Senegal is basically named Babacar). Creepy Babacar is both creepy and a Pular. My village’s ethnicity is Sereer. Sereers and Pulars consider themselves ‘cousins’ and often times make fun of each other. This has gone on for hundreds of years. Pulars are nomadic people associated mainly with being cow herders, or thieves, depending on who you ask. Pulars are notorious for their ability to take things that don’t belong to them. That’s exactly what creepy Babacar did to little Fatou Sengor’s cow. In the middle of the night before market day, he took the cow and hid in the bush. He then tried to sell it off early in the morning before anyone noticed that the cow was missing. Smart thinking for a dirty Pular. Equally smart for a creepy person.

(NOTE: If this at all offends any of my Pular and/or creepy fans reading my blog, let the record show that I in no way intended to offend you. –Management)

Creepy Babacar was shipped off to do a 2 year stretch in a Senegalese prison. Not the one that forgot to lock-up one night, letting all of the convicted felons go free (true story). I’m talking about the maximum security that holds the real criminals, where the sugar smugglers go. If you thought the US prison system is flawed….welcome to Africa. I bet that son-of-a-bitch Pular stole my mother’s cow too.

Magically Delicious

2007-08-18T05:41:00.000-07:00

Part I

This story actually consists of two stories in one. First, Mamadou and I went out in the bush at sunset one day to find some mysterious magical tree. Before we left for our adventure we stopped to talk to a few friends and their horse. The horse refused to talk. We were deep into conversation about how freakin’ hot it reached that day, when suddenly something jumped out at us----It was "Crazy Omar". Crazy Omar is my villages’ local celebrity. They call him Omar dof, which literally means ‘crazy Omar’. Omar is a little slower than the rest of the kids in class, other than of course Crazy Ousman and Crazy-kid-with-no-name. They’re all about the same, but Crazy Omar is a bit feistier. Well, (Politically Correct) Omar jumped out at us---with a large, sharp log. It was too big to be considered a stick. He ran straight at us swinging the club back and forth trying to smash whatever he could make contact with in that moments notice. Luckily we were fast enough to get away. My sympathies go out to the horse though. (PC) Omar beat the animal without mercy. Im sure it felt like total shit the next day. Id put my money on it. They got Omar to stop petting the horse, and somehow managed to take away the skull crusher. We then laughed it off and went on with our conversation about how freakin’ hot Africa is these days.

Part II

We parted from our friends and continued our journey to find the mysterious tree. We only walked 10 steps when something else jumped out at us---nope, its just "Crazy Omar" again with a not-as-big-of-stick-than-the-last. He apparently has extremely poor aim if he was coming for us. Instead he started whacking AT the cow. The big cow. The big cow with big steers and even bigger balls cow. Once again we got Omar away from the now pissed off future T-bone. After saving the poor kids much deserved life, Mamadou and I went searching for out mystery tree. We walked and talked; more walking than talking since I was a little anxious to figure what in the hell was going on. We walked through the dried fields of sand where crops had just been recently planted along the rows. We passed a small grove of mango and cashew trees. We walked along a few hundred feet of deserted salt flats until BAMM!!! There is was- "The Tree". We finally made it to a tree; just an ordinary tree I thought. It didn’t look so special. It didn’t make me feel different, happy, sad or magically delicious. I expected a magical tree to be much more….magical, or at least big. But Mamadou felt a strange attachment so I went a long for the ride. He dug. I sat. After a while he made it to a root of the magic tree. Not exactly what I expected. He used one of his many African handheld chaotic things he calls a tool and chopped off a foot long piece of root. Not much of a magical tree now that it can’t grow, or maybe that’s all part of the magic. Hmmm? On the way home he finally explained to me why we went on such an Easter egg hunt. Evidently in Sereer folklore, you give the root of this tree to your eldest son or daughter. If (s)he loses such root, then neither you nor your wife will be able to have anymore children. If they keep a hold of it, than baby making machines they shall be. Take a guess at which outcome he’s hoping for? He hates that fucking root!

Kuli

2007-07-05T17:33:00.003-07:00

A few weeks ago, a family of cats took refuge in my backyard. At the time of their arrival, I noticed Papa cat as one of Bukki's (my dog) old playmates. When he, the cat, was only a kitten, Bukki would put his little kitten head in Bukki's little puppy mouth. All was just fun and games until little kitten lost one of his little beady eyes. Since then Ive called him Chester Copperpot (from the movie "The Goonies") in reference to his resemblence of a one-eyed pirate. (I figured calling him One-eyed Willie was a little cruel and demeaning) It was an interesting coincidence that my parents later sent me a DVD none other than, "The Goonies".

Well, Chester Copperpot turned into quite the kitty pirate. Instead of stealing gold and diamonds, he stole a different kind of 'booty', the one belonging to all the little girly kittens in town. I guess the whole one-eye, bad ass look is in these days. Little kin of Chester Copperpot were popping up all over the village. Which brings me back to the beginning of my story, "A few weeks ago, a family of cats took refuge in my backyard."

I woke up one morning with something furry cuddled up next to me. My first reaction was to freak out because it caught me off guard. I picked it up and flung it out of my bed, but it didnt leave my room. It proved to be good company throughout the day, so I let it stay a while. I dont know if i regret this or not, but I broke the cardinal rule- "Dont feed the animals." Now, it refuses to leave.

That night it jumped in my bed while i was reading and I let it stick around, as if I had a choice. I now have a black and white friend that wants nothing but a little TLC (tender love and care).

I have this long standing joke with my family here. I tell everyone that with as many kittens Chester Copperpot has had, theres no doubt in my mind that he has contracted some sort of kitty STD. You cant be too safe these days!!! This gave me a perfect name for the kitten, and if you wondered about the title of this story....now you know. I named her "Kuli", translated into English from Wolof means, 'syphillis'. I thought 'kuli' was a very nice sounding name, even given the terrible meaning associated with it; which surely I too have probably contracted over the years. Luckily for the kitten though, she'll never fully comprehend the meaning of her name. Unless of course she grows up and meets another Chester Copperpot

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Nakedness

2007-07-05T17:33:00.001-07:00

We've been having quite a few celebrations lately, as in every other day. For instance, my buddy Mamadou had a two-day-long party because his wife moved into Bambougar (the village). I asked him why would he have a party for her now since she has lived in the village way before I even got here, two years ago. He said that because NOW its official. I asked what made it official; He looked at me like i was an idiot and should have known better. "Of course," he said, "this party makes it official." Hell, I never got a party. Am I not official? Though, µI didn't want to argue with him.

The other day I got a knock on my door. It was my sister Neema. She wanted to borrow my drum, which is no big deal just as long as it doesn't come back like everything else I loan out....in pieces. All of the ladies gathered that night and had a little drum and dance party. They've had these before but never at night and I wanted to watch. I didn't really have a choice anyway since it was held 20 feet from my hut.

The ladies were having a blast dancing together. Then they broke off into a dance off. One by one they took center stage, did a dance, said a few lines and then the next lady would come take her place. It took me a minute or two to figure out what was going on. One lady would go out to dance alone. While she was dancing she'd say something mean about another lady (in a joking way) and then the woman being made fun of would take her place and pick on someone new. One lady made fun of the size of another woman's ass by saying the reason her butt was so big is because she refuses to do her work (very mild insult). She, with big ass, then got up and said the reason her ass was so big was because her friend's husband gave it a good workout (paraphrased) in bed. Then she got up and danced and said it was okay that her husband was cheating on her. She pointed to my aunt and said that there's a reason why her new baby looked like my aunt's husband Abib. That made me laugh so hard that I was almost in tears. I know Abib very well and I knew that it was only a joke. But it just happens that my aunt loves to pick on me. She was out there alone dancing her heart out. Our eyes met; mine still half in tears. She pointed at me and asked what I was laughing at. I had no response, only more laughing. She said that I shouldnt be laughing at her because when my real dad finally comes to visit, she was going to be my new mom. She was going to take my dad into her room and make little half-black-half-white babies that would move in with me when i got home to America. Of course everyone there was laughing beyond all belief. It was my turn to dance, but I refused. Instead I put on my sad face and said that I was mad and walked towards my room. Suddenly the drumming stopped and everyone yelled out that they were sorry. "O waasanaam Malick, o waasanaam!!!" They seriously felt sorry for what they said to me. I cant believe after living here this long, they still havent learned that its going to take a hell of a lot more than that to offend me.

I was out to get someone back, but I didnt know what to say right then and there. So i shut the door to my hut and stood there thinking of a come back. The drumsstarted rolling again and they continued on with their stupid little game. Two or three minutes passed by and I finally came up with something.

I took my clothes off. I stood there in my man-panties peeking through my door. The moment came and I pushed open the door and ran the 20 towards the action. I already caught their attention being half naked in the center of 200 perverted African women. They imediately began laughing. I chose to give my neighbor Marie a little shit for all the days she's busted my balls. Shes a very funny lady with a constant smile and a dramatic personality. I stood there dancing in my underwear and I yelled out to everyone that it was okay that they all loved my dad back home, but it'd never happen because my mom would come fight them all. Then I said to Marie that she shouldnt be laughing either. I said the reason i was in my underwear was because I was just in my room with her two daughters and I refuse to pay for their terrible service. Marie fell down laughing so hard that she hit her head on a chair next to her. People for miles could hear the laughs that night. Later after the fun was at a hault, I walked over to Marie, this time fuilly clothed, and told her that I didnt think her daughters were prostitutes and that i dont want to sleep with them, nor will I ever. She threw a stick at me in response and broke out in another laughing fit. All she could muster up to say is that I knew how to speak Seerer.

The following morning I bought Marie's two daughters a bag of candy to share. I felt guilty for calling a 10 and a 12 year old a couple of hookers. But they didnt seem to be upset, especially now that they had candy.

Every morning since that night, ladies have come up to me clapping their hands trying to get me to start dancing. But even though Im retired now, i think Ive earned a newfound respect from the ladies of Bambougar Malick Ndiaye.

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Nakedness

2007-06-12T11:45:00.001-07:00

Nakedness

2007-06-03T10:22:00.001-07:00

Kuli

2007-06-03T10:21:00.001-07:00

Nakedness

2007-06-03T10:14:00.000-07:00

Kuli

2007-06-03T09:35:00.001-07:00

Village Profile

2007-05-01T07:21:00.000-07:00

Ill never forget the first time I met my brother Babacar and my best friend Mamadou. I had only been in the country for less than 2 months. During training, PC invited 2 members of everyones villages to participate in a conference at our HQ. Of course we had only just found out where we were going a few days before.

The first day of the conference had come and everyones villagers were showing up and welcoming them to Africa. It was a very heartwarming event for everyone, except for me. My villagers werent there yet. Lunchtime came and still no sign of them. Everyone esle were off eating lunch and talking/getting to know their future hosts. I on the other hand was eating hostless while I waited. (permission to feel sad for me: GRANTED)

Sometime after lunch they finally showed up. I showed them to their room where we sat down and talked, or at least tried to talk. Neither one of them speak any English and at that time, Sereer still sounded like mean African gibberish. Babacar didnt talk much. He was born with a stutter, which came in handy for me because his speech slowed down everything for me to understand. Mamadou did most of the talking, except when he was busy puffing on a cigarette (which consumes most of his daily activities). Hes a 3-pack-a-day, 1-match kind of guy. After our talk, I gave them a tour around the center with specific infomation on the Do's and Dont's. The conference was onto a good start now.

The following morning I met the two of them for breakfast. After we ate I went into the bathroom to shave (that was back in the day when I still shaved everyday). They followed. Our mens room at the center consists of sinks, showers with curtains and only one sit down toilet. It you want to go either number 1 or 2, you have to go outside on the outside of the building. The normal system of bathroom use here in Senegal is what scientists like to call a "hole-in-the-ground". While I was lathering up for my shave, Babacar and Mamadou came in with a mutual mission, they had to pee.

The two of them walked into the showers, pulled the curtains close and did their business. I didnt have the heart to tell them that its only acceptable to piss in the shower if, and only if, you happen to be taking said shower. A mans gotta do what a mans gotta do. Later I found out that one of my friends host made the same mistake, only he left a bigger, more obvious surprise.

top o' the mornin' to ya all

2007-03-18T09:42:00.000-07:00

Happy St. Pattys Day everyone. True, its the day after the fact but I figure that since I still have beer and cabbage in my system, the day has yet to end. I hope everyone shared in the spirit of the Holiday and enjoyed the great Irish food, Irish beer and Irish hospitality. We're all Irish today!!!

Village Profile #2

2007-02-07T12:00:00.000-08:00

CHIEF

Id like to introduce you to Chief, otherwise known to me as Papa Smurf. One day Papa Smurf was wearing an all blue outfit and a white hat, so since then Ive been calling him a smurf. Even if he doesnt understand what the hell Im talking about.

You can always tell when Papa Smurf is around because hes constantly screaming at the little kids. Hes an old man with half a set of brown teeth and short grey hair. If Papa Smurf lived in America, Im pretty sure hed be a used car salesman. Lucky me for being the only white guy living in his house.

Like I said, Papa Smurf would probably sell used cars in America if he could. The man is the cheapest person Ive ever met. He forces his sons to work for him so he doesnt have to. Hell never spend a dime on anyone exept himself and hes always hitting me up for money. So I usually give him 12 cents just so hell go away and leave me alone. I think he may be on to my game.

There is one story in particular I have about Papa Smurf that Ill never forget. Hes a man of selfish pride. He striv es to always be the center of attention, no different than myself of course. Last year during one of our many Muslim holidays we all dressed up nice and met at the mosque for prayer. During religious functions, our village Marabout (religious leader) is center stage. Our Marabout brought out a decorative wooden staff to lead his followers in prayer. Oh no, that took away Papa Smurfs spotlight. But Papa Smurf doesnt have a beautiful decorative wooden staff to show his leadership skills in the village. Remember, hes cheap.

But the man is witty. When he saw our Marabout with a staff and he didnt have one, the old man ran back to his room to try to find something of equal or better quality. Whats he do? Papa Smurf took his damn bed post off his bed and tied a bunch of colorful ribbons around the head, so he could hide the giant silver screw protruding from the top. God forbid people find out he didnt own a beautiful decorative wooden staff. Even worse if they find out he did, but carved out of the finest wood a cheap used car salesman can afford to sleep on. At least he kept his pride.

Village Profile #2

2007-02-07T11:38:00.000-08:00

CHIEF

Sugar Coated

2007-02-05T11:26:00.000-08:00

Ive noticed the people in my village are addicted to over-the-counter medicine. It doesnt really matter if they're sick or not. They love it. It also doesnt matter what kind of medicine they end up asking for. They'll take anything, especially if its FREE. Most people use the sore back excuse until I tell them I dont have anything for that. Then they ask what I do have and suddenly everyone has stomach problems. Truthfully, I think they love the taste of my Pepto-Bismol. Its the closest thing to candy that they're going to get. Thank God I dont have any delicious candy coated Advil.

Whats that? Sore fingers? Here, have a nice and tasty cough drop....Its cherry

THE MORE YOU KNOW

2007-02-05T11:24:00.000-08:00

Did you know.....

1. St. Paul Minnesota was originally named "Pigs Eye"

2. Iran has more than twice the population of Canada

3. Finland once banned Donald Duck because he wears NO pants

4. Bandanna is the hindu word for tie-dye

5. The 3 points of the Bermuda Triangle are Bermuda, The Greater Antilles and the US coast

6. The Indian state of Kashmir has two capitals, one in summer, one in winter

7. Its a crime in Japan to import foreign-grown rice

8. Reno Nevada is farther West than Los Angeles California

9. All dogs but seeing eye dogs are banned in Iceland

10. To dig a hole to China, you'd have to be in Argentina or Chile

HEY HEY

2006-12-30T10:45:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone. Im back from my vacation. Ghana and Togo are both amazing places and I have tons of stories to tell. So many that I cant right now because I lack the time and patience. I promise you all that I will soon. I wrote a very detailed travel journal with all sorts of stuff including meals, beer, and how many days I went without changing my underwear. I also have tons of pictures to send home. So yes Mom and Dad, I will send pictures home soon. Youll finally get the chance to see my life here in Africa. I hope everyone had a very Merry Christmas. Take care and enjoy your New Years celebrations.

2006-12-25T06:17:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas and Seasons Greetings from TOGO West Africa

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Bye

2006-12-11T10:37:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone,

12 hours and counting until I'm on vacation. My flight leaves tomorrow morning at 830am African Time, which is 230am back home. How exciting is that? Pretty freaking cool huh. So Merry Christmas everyone and Ill accumulate more stupid African stories for you all.

Pauly

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Merry Christmas

2006-12-03T03:37:00.000-08:00

Ahhhh, its that time of year when everyones getting ready for the holidays. Its a nice feeling, right? Its that one time of year where people stop being cheap and spend a few extra bucks on their loved ones. The snow will begin to fall and stores are playing Christmas songs to the point of massive annoyance. That random guy with his random bell will be freezing his butt off outside of K-mart. Those were the good old days. Unfortunately, I'm going to miss yet another American Christmas. No egg nog for me this year. Feel bad for me? You shouldnt. While you all celebrate the holidays, I will be exploring the depths of West Africa. I decided to take a trip this year to a country called Ghana. Ill also be hanging out in two other countries as well, The Ivory Coast and Togo. The cool part is that I leave in a week.

Im going to Ghana with three of my good friends: Becca, Arun and Shane. The itinerary consists of mountain climbing, waterfall and cave explorations, hiking, hanging out on the beach, etc...We'll get a chance to hang out with the locals to kick back and relax for two weeks. Im starting to get very anxious. The part of the trip Im looking forward to most is a place called Ryan's Irish Pub. I cannot wait to drink myself stupid with all the Irish beer. It feels good to tap into a bit of your family heritage every once in a while. Especially when green beer is on tap.

I leave Senegal on December 12th and return the 26th. Its only a two week vacation, but Ive needed this break for about a year now. Hopefully Ill come back fresh and ready to work for a few months. When you think about it, I dont have much more time left here in this country. I figured that I might as well see more of Africa while Im here. I never know when Ill get the chance to ever do it again. Merry Christmas everyone. See you all soon.

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Life is pretty good when you're not DEAD

2006-11-21T05:16:00.000-08:00

Today Id like to share a story that actually has three stories in one. They all share something in common, which of course is how I almost died.

One hell of an opening paragraph, huh? Well this all began one day a few weeks ago when I was traveling to Thies in a car. Things were looking up. I ate a nice lunch, relaxed in front of a fan for a few hours and I took a nice little nap. Then it was time to take public transportation. Not a big deal since I do it quite often. I was squished in the car with 6 other passengers and we were on our way, until suddenly a car pulled up next to us and told us we had to go back to pick up something. Everyone in the car was pissed and got out thinking that they could easily just hitchhike. I for one was having a good day, so I decided to wait it out and get back on the road soon. So the driver, a random guy and I all went back. No other cars were around so I couldnt switch cars. I ended up waiting about an hour for them to pick up that "something" that we came back for. No big deal, because remember I was already having that good day.

Suddenly the guys car pulls up with his special "something". Some idiot(s) decided that it would be easy to strap another car on top of ours. It wasnt half a car. It wasnt spare parts from a car. It was a WHOLE car. Of course it was a wrecked car, but it was still a car. Apparently it was easier for them to strap it on top of ours because it had no tires. Had an engine though. The point of the story is that i took 4 hours to get where i was going that only takes an hour. During our little expedition every single passenger in the car, including myself, were trembling in fear....especially when the hood of the car started to make noises. The noises kind of reminded me of the sound of a car being on top of ours trying to crush us below, but Im not totally sure.

The second time I almost died was pretty scary as well. I was getting a late start on my trip coming home so I had to take a car at night time. New lesson learned....dont do that in Africa. I must have been having another one of those good days because I chose to ride in the only car without headlights. Driving at night here in general is a stupid decision to make. Its just damn idiotic to drive at night without headlights. To make this death story short, all I can say is that I was joining in with the rest of the car as they prayed to Allah that we didnt crash head on with the cars coming directly at us. Yeah, Im that damn idiot I was just talking about.

the third time I almost died was three days ago. With my personal experience with death traps, ive been more aware of the cars Im riding in just in case. So I saw a really nice car and I did not hesitate to push my way thru the crowd to get in it. The car looked new, it even had one of those tree incense hanging from the mirror. The only downer was that the fresh smell of the evergreen tree did not help mask the odor of the gas fumes filling my precious lungs. Have you ever seen a movie where someone hooks up a garden hose to their exhaust pipe and tries to gas themselves in their car? Yeah, same concept. The air has NEVER tasted so sweet until after I got out of the car. I must have prayed extra hard to Allah last time they tried to kill me because somebody was looking out for me. I think its about time to get another one of those magical charms, this time one to prevent people from killing me with their cars.

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Kids these days

2006-11-21T05:04:00.000-08:00

My best friend in the village is named Mamadou Barro. Ma is a really cool guy. His only problem is that he finds it difficult to restrain himself from helping this country stop with the overpopulation problem, (AKA he's a baby makin' machine). Ma just had another baby. A week after babies are born here they have a baptism for them. Baptisms are a little different here. Everybody stops what they are doing and they party all day. A lot of things dont get done in this country because of this and the fact that everyone is having babies. If you form an equation consisting of these premises it may look a little something like this...

B= Baptism

~W= Work is not getting done

K= Kid is born

P= Party all day

K=B, B=P

Therefor, K=P

If P is the new constant, then P= ~W

Therfor, K,P and B all equal ~W

If ~W is the outcome of K, P, and B then new variables are created which are now called S and C

S=SEX

C=Birth Control

K+P+B=S

S + ~C =K(2)

K(2)=B(2), B(2)=P(2)...

K(3)=B(3), B(3)=P(3)...

Now mulitply K(3) with 200 women in my village and divide by 7 days in a week. Now can you see how much work gets done in my village?

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Happy.....

2006-11-21T03:57:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!!! I know I'm a day early, but you're going to have to work with me on this one. It might be a while before I can write again. Just to be safe, Merry Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanza and possibly even St. Patty's day. Eat well for me.

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I LOVE JESUS

2006-10-06T03:13:00.000-07:00

Its here again, that one crazy month when my village hates everything and EVERYONE. Ramadan is a very special time. Its the month when all the worlds Muslims come together and help decrease the worlds violent consumption of raw materials....but only during daylight hours. AKA, They dont consume anything. AKA, they dont eat or drink or smoke. AKA, thank God I LOVE JESUS!!!!!!! Hallelujah Brotha!!!! MMMMMHMMMM!!!!

I wrote about Ramadan last year, but I only participated once. I promise you that was the most difficult 12 hours of my life. Now that Ive been eating their food for a year, I can somewhat say that I enjoy the idea of not eating. I have only fasted for a few days this year. I figure what the hell, I still have the WHOLE month of October NOT to eat anything. That still gives me a while.

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50?

2006-10-06T02:56:00.000-07:00

Guess what? 50 people just escaped from a Senegalese prison. How in the hell can 50 people escape from prison? all at the same freaking time? I could see 1 or 2 people digging away with a spoon. But 50? Its like one day Muhammad woke up in his cell, which happened to be unlocked...open....with the key still in the door...

Where in the hell were the prison guards during the escape of FIFTY FREAKING PEOPLE? "uhhh, no boss...I swear I was watching them the whole time! I have no clue how 50 criminals disappeared," says the dumb shit guard.

I dont even fully blame the guard. I blame society. I have no damn clue why I blame society, I just do.

You all should appreciate the American Criminal Justice System. Especially when their motto states, "if you escape from prison, we WILL shoot you." Unlike the Seneglese System which states, "if you escape from prison, we no longer have to feed you."

So at this point in my life, I am quite certain that I might become that sugar smuggler I once wrote about. The only thing stopping me before was the idea of rotting away in an African Prison. Now that I know jail is a sign-in sign-out kind of thing, I think Im starting to get a sweet tooth.

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Been a Long Time

2006-10-03T10:27:00.000-07:00

How is everyone? If youre reading this message, theres a pretty good chance that I havent heard from you in ages. Im sorry about that. So this message is for those whom I may have lost touch with. Its hard to keep up when I only get to check my messages for an hour here and there. MY bad! So I hope you're all doing well. Im sure you are.

Are You Experienced?

2006-10-02T08:08:00.000-07:00

I just had two upstanding young gentlemen visit me in (BMN) Bambougar Malick Ndiaye. The new prisoners have arrived. There are 52 or so new volunteers slaving away exactly like I had to do a year ago. Good for them. Training'll put hair on their chests. Im serious. Peace Corps really does support the HWC, Hairy Women Coalition. WTF.

So yeah, I had two guys come visit me in the village. Brett and Mark seemed to like where I live more than I do. But I remember being that excited when I got here. Im not trying to be negative or down. I really do love where I live. My village rocks. Im just over the whole, WOW THIS IS AMAZING kind of attitude they both seemed to have towards BMN. I got use to the people and the BS and now Im just part of the community. That now means Im just your average poor African. I even forget Im white sometimes until I see myself in the mirror 8 days later.

Though Im glad I got to host these two for a week. It was fun and really showed me how much Ive learned in the last year. I feel experienced!

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2006-10-02T07:54:00.000-07:00

So its official! Ive been in Africa for a year. We didnt really know which exact day we should celebrate. There was either the day we left home or the day we came to Africa. So why the hell not, lets celebrate them all. This week Ive taped into my Irish heritage and drank myself stupid. I know what youre thinking... Paul might have a problem with alcohol. Its not so much the alcohol I have a problem with. The whiskey is fine. Its the following 9 days after the so called anniversary batch that I have the problem with. Hangovers in Africa are not so much fun. Truthfully, I shouldnt be writing about this in an open forum. The Boss-Man might be spying on us. I may be fired for having a "normal" life. But when I really sit down and think about the Positive vs. Negative implications, the worst thing they can do to me is send me home to AMERICA. The worst possible thing they could do to me is LET ME STAY. That in itself is torture enough.

PS. Im just kidding. Dont fire me Mr. Boss-Man!

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Tap Tap Tap

2006-09-08T07:04:00.000-07:00

Theres no funny way to tell this story, so I might as well just get down to the basics. Last week I was laying in bed around 10PM reading a book. Suddenly, I hear tapping on my back door. I go to open up my door, and my room was taken over by about 9 million little flying monsters. These things looked like oversized ants with huge dragonfly wings. I'm not kidding when I say I couldn't see two feet in front of me because there were so many of them. It took me a while to find my front door so I could escape the attack. My poor little puppy was stuck in there with the beasts. I went around asking my village why the hell I was attacked by giant ants, and I noticed that these things were EVERYWHERE in the village. So I went back to my hut and all I could see is my dog jumping on my bed eating these things at about 10 per second. She had to have eaten at least a thousand, give or take a few million. Two hours later all these things were gone, but they all lost their wings. So the next day I cleaned up 9 million sets of monster wings. I couldn't find a single trace of their bodies. If Bukki didn't stay up all night eating them, I'm guessing they crawled away waiting to scare the shit out of me sometime soon again.

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Its only illegal if you get caught

2006-08-22T10:25:00.000-07:00

Last month I went sugar smuggling. Yeah, I did that. It might sound like nonsense, but Africa takes its sugar seriously. To ensure that I dont get arrested, I was with an unnamed person working with an unnamed organization. We traveled down past the border into The Gambia, where we purchased sugar at a very low, discounted price for his, or her, personal consumption. Smuggling sugar into Senegal is like smuggling crack across the Mexican border. You get in big trouble if you get caught. I almost went to jail for a very long, long time.

Kuba jara....Kuba jara is nothing you want to mess with. The witch doctors use it to cure everything from the common cold to cancer. Kuba jara is a weed that grows naturally out in BFE. They take the weed and use it as tea leaves. They filter out the tea 3 times and then drink it. So I bet youre asking, why 3 times? Because if you filter it only once, you better say good-bye to reality for the next 10 years. If you filter it out only 2, you basically go blind and forget about the next three days. 3 times is okay though, and it gets rid of your herpes.

Djinak is an island an hour away from my village. The island has a wicked curse for ALL law enforcement officers. If anyone with legal power even steps foot on the island, then they die instantly. I havent found out how they die, because the police here actually do think they'll die if they get in the way. Great cover up if you plan on growing an island full of POT. Pot island is a wonderfull place if you happen to be either a hippie or a Mexican dope smuggler, which I am neither. I only smuggle sugar. PS, I dont smoke pot, mom.

Zoom Zoom!!!! Ah yes, the Z-Z will get you in trouble. Zoom zoom is what I like to call African moon-shine. Its illegal to make, its illegal to buy, its even illegal to own. Im innocent on the first charge, but guilty as hell for the other two. Zoom Zoom is a very hard alcohol made in Seereer areas of the country, which I happen to live. The moonshine is made from distilled sugar, which Im sure is illegally smuggled into this country. Its a very tricky business, this zoom zoom. People make it in total secret. Its just not allowed to do. Carrying around 1 fluid litre of this stuff gets you two years in prison. I only had half a litre. I drank zoom zoom on the evening of July 3rd. I didnt sleep untill the night of July 5th. Its a powerful drink that makes sure you never want to drink it again. I dont know if its the sugar that keeps you awake, or the fact that you have no clue what else they put in it. I could be drinking rat poisoning and vanilla extract for all I know. Thats why they call it moon-shine.

Updates

2006-08-22T09:53:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone. Sorry its been awhile since Ive posted any new messages, but lifes been pretty busy lately. I just wanted to give you all a few updates on whats going on in the life of Malick Ndong.

1. Rainy season has been slow. Good news is that it has started to rain. Things should be picking up here really quick in the next few weeks.

2. My dog Bukki came back home. Bukki got lost about 2 months ago, but I found her in Sokone last Wednesday. It made me realize how much Ive missed her. She looks really healthy and big. The only thing is, someone got ahold of her and cut her ears off. Yeah, that sounds pretty bad but they do that here to keep the bugs from getting to them first. So my dog has no ears. Other than that, everythings back to normal.

3. My health has gotten better. I still dont know what i had, officially. My village gave me some tree bark to chew on. They said it would cure me, so I said what the hell and ate the damn thing. Im convinced that African voodoo medicine is now the way to go.

P = A

2006-07-27T12:47:00.000-07:00

Ive been kind of sick for the past two weeks. From the time I got here until now, Ive been pretty damn straight in the sickness category. Our medical staff is overworked right now so its more or less just a waiting game before I find out whats up with my dirty self.

About two weeks ago I was laying in bed with the chills. Thats kind of ironic being the fact that Africa is hot as hell. After my chills left, I was overwhelmed with a fever. Of course I also had a bad case of the BIG D, or Hershey Squirts if you want a more graphic picture.

The fever didnt leave for three days in which I called our Doctor. Of course she said that I was fine and that I should wait it out a little while. It may be a little bit of a coincidence that our only doctor went to med school in the Soviet Union, DURING the regime. Or maybe Im just an asshole.

The fever and the D didnt stop, so I was treated for Malaria. I had to prick my own finger with a sharp object and send my blood in for testing. Still no word. That was weird to think about. I felt fine so I went back to my village. That wasnt a smart move on my part. I got sick again. So to make a short story even shorter, I get sick for three days and then I get better for two. Its on a cycle with my GI track.

Unfortunately today is day one of the 3 day OUCH cycle. Lucky for me though, I have two days to look forward to later on in the week.

In my opinion, I believe I might have what the expert call an "AMEBA". Amebas are parasites in your body that mess around with your insides. You get them from drinking untreated water or eating infected foods. If youd like a better explanation on amebas, google.com may help you find what youre looking for. For an easy equation for my sickness, please read the following:

P= Paul

A= Ameba

W= Water ; ~W= Bad Water

F= Yummy food; ~F= Not so yummy food

D= Hershey Squirts

M= Medication; ~M= Not on Medication

C= Three Day Ouch Cycle

C²= Two Day not so much Ouch Cycle

USSR= My Doctor

1. P + (~W + ~F) = D

2. D + C = THIS SUCKS

3. THIS SUCKS - (D + C) = C²

4. C²= (W + F)

5. C² + C = A

6. P + A = IDIOT

7. P + ~M = I cant get any better without M

Therefore, P = A

So logically, if you drink bad water and eat bad food you're an IDIOT.

Mystery Meat

2006-07-09T09:46:00.000-07:00

Im usually not one to complain, but God damnit.....sometimes it feels good. My common complaints are usually concerning subjects like food and weather. Well, those are basically the only things I ever complain about. Its Africa, so naturally its hot. Its just getting hotter, in turn making me complain even more. ITS HOT!!!!! Consider yourselves blessed. The other complaint that you all should be used to is my eating habits. The food in my village tastes like dirt. Youve heard this over and over. Except Im another 10 pounds lighter than I was last month, and the food hasnt gotten any better. IM STARVING!!!!!

It all started with my village, Bambougar Malick Ndiaye. What a name! They eat food that resembles dirt, on a daily basis. So pretend my village has a party. Pretend the party lasts FIVE days. Of course they wouldnt dare give their guests dirt for nine meals a day. Instead they broke out the big guns and slaughtered 8 cows. I WAS EXCITED. Id be eating beef for the first time in the village. Youd think Id have enjoyed that experience.

The village decided to have a ceremony for the opening of the new mosque in my village. If you dont know what a mosque is, its a church for Muslims. Its only 100 times louder and annoying. The men in my village have been building this enormous structure smack dead in the middle of town. Theyve been working on it before I even came there to live. I want to give you an outline of my 5 day Fun-Fest.

Day 1: They didnt tell me, but they installed not one, but TWO jumbo loud speakers on the top of the mosque. I found this out very early when they decided to test it at 3AM in the morning. It sounded like a freight train in my hut. It was going to be a long day.

(To make this story short, Im going to skip most of the boring things. Basically the whole party was boring)

Lunch: Mom brought me a huge bowl of beef and oil. There was more oil than beef, but I wasnt going to complain. I had bread to help the oil go down. The beef was amazing. The oil was a bit too heavy; a bit too much.

Dinner: As I expected, they fed me more beef. This beef was served over rice, and of course, oil. There was more oil than there was rice, but I was eating beef. How could I complain?

Day 2: Breakfast came unusually early this day. Mom woke me up at 5AM to give me a huge bowl of food. Yup, more beef. Freshly killed and unrefrigerated for two days. Day two was a little difficult. I woke up feeling like ass. I blame the gallon of oil I ate the day before, but I could have been worn out from all the damn fun I wasn't having. But I ate breakfast because it was beef, and Ill never get the chance to eat it again in the village. The 5 cups of oil that came with it was a little over the top.

Lunch: More beef. More oil. I was feeling sick.

Afternoon snack: Afternoon snack? Whats this all about? We never have snacks? Whats in the bowl? Ah, more beef flavored oil. Ok, really starting to get old here....

Dinner: You get the idea

Day 3: I was so worried about eating, I woke up early to "disappear" before breakfast and lunch. I actually lived off of cashew nuts in the wild. It was that sad. I wasnt that lucky with dinner.

Dinner: Mom brought my bowl. I wanted to cry. I cant offend them. I cant NOT eat. I had to do it. I opened the bowl to see oil, beef and a beef part. I had a good idea what the beef part was, but I asked to make sure. I asked my mother what the hell was in my bowl. Im glad I can speak their language, otherwise I might have misunderstood that Id be dining on cow testicle that night. It was interesting. Not saying that cow weiner is good or bad. It was simply interesting. Enough so that I gave most of it away to my dog, Bukki.

I have just eaten 10 pounds of beef and oil in three days. I layed in bed all night in horror. I wasnt feeling good. I wanted to throw up, but I couldnt get myself to do it. I found myself sitting in my back yard around 11 at night moaning in pain. Just my luck, it started to rain. It was appropriate though.

I tried to thow up again, but my body was having no response. I came up with an idea that I knew wouldnt let me down. Id tap into my Irish heritage and force the oil out. I have a big bottle of whiskey in my room for long and lonely nights. If whiskey didnt bring it out, nothing would. I took a drink. Tastes like ass. No luck. Took a second drink. Yup, there it came. 10 pounds of beef and oil taken care of with two drinks of liquid courage. That was a painful experience. But I got through it.

Long story short. Im done with these week long parties they have. Im so lucky to be eating dirt again. Real food just doesnt taste the same here. Thanks for listening to me complain!

AMS

2006-07-09T04:19:00.000-07:00

I think Ive mentioned gri-gris before but in case you forgot, Ill refresh your minds. West Africans, before colonization of the Brits and the French, had a long lasted traditional African animist view. AKA, they were paegan. They sort of mixed their old tradional ways into a new modern West Africa. Though they did indeed keep a little bit of old fashioned West African voodoo magic. Theyre called gri-gri.

Gri-gri are little magical charms that you wear around your body that have a significant meaning or protection. I for one would love to say that this is total BS, but in truth, Im a gri-gri whore. Ive been seen wearing a little bit of that voo-doo love.

It was a hard decision to make, but what would I choose to be my first Lucky Charm? I thought about it for a while. A long while. Then it came to me while I was swimming in my village swimming hole. Wouldnt it really suck to be eaten by a BIG ASS crocodile? Why yes, that would really suck. I talked to my village marabout about getting a `I dont want to be eaten by a crocodile while im swimming' gri-gri. So instead, he created the ultimate 'dont bite me' charm. Im protected from all things that bite: crocodiles, spiders, snakes, dogs, girlfriends, etc..." He put the spell in a huge ocean shell; wrapped it in leather. I wear it around my waist with pride.

My marabout gave me specific instructions on how gri-gri lose their powers. I must do the following to insure gri-gris last:

1. I am not allowed to be touched by a woman, in my special place, unless I take off my gri-gri.

2. Im not allowed to touch MY special place unless I take off my gri-gri. This includes going to the bathroom and anything else you perverts at home are thinking about.

3. If I wear too many gri-gri, they may lose their power.

Believe it or not, I have been true to my marabouts wishes and I have yet to be bitten by anything with teeth.

I must confess that I did indeed purchase more than one gri-gri. I am very impressed that I havent been eaten by something big yet. I need to go to a gri-gri maker to have these things put into necklace form.

I am a proud owner of the-

1. 'Dont stab me with that knife' gri gri

2. 'Haha...You cant shoot me with that gun either' gri gri

3. 'You want to make a bet, I can kick your ass' gri gri

4. 'Even though Ive been vaccinated, Ill never get yellow fever' gri gri (I bought this one because it was an antique. It was made for someone who has long been dead. Probably from yellow fever.)

Since Im protected from being stabbed or shot and since I have the blessing of Allah to kick people's ass, Its given me a very keen awareness to my environment. I like to call this sense, "AMS- otherwise known as Alpha Male Syndrom." Alpha Male Syndrom gives me the power to go up to anyone and give them instant shit, hence, Alpha Male. Senegalese people are very aggressive. They have no problem getting in your face. But when it comes to fighting, they are clueless. I once saw two men slapping at each other in duel combat. Thats a step up from the usual, push-and-run method I see on a daily basis. I have yet seen a fight here that consists of fists, blood, or pain.

I promise not to go using my Alpha Male Syndrom around town. Its more of a 'just in case' sickness. Just in case somebody tries to stab me will I tell them to piss off and beat them up. Just in case somebody wants to steal my wallet with a gun pointed at me will I try to beat the man with his own shoe. Its the little things Ill be waiting for to use AMS. Well just have to wait and find out if my gri-gri still have power. I better not take a piss before I go around trying to pick a fight.

4th of July Feast

2006-07-07T06:15:00.000-07:00

The 4th didnt quite seem right this year. It may be the fact that I celebrated a holiday for a holiday in a country that doesnt celebrate that holiday. Did you get that?

So my buddy Justin and I did a lot of thinking about the menu for this non-holiday holiday. What better thing to do in an ALL MUSLIM country than to drink beer and eat pork, the only two things theyre not allowed to do. Around the crack of noon, Justin and I went exploring for our pig. This thing was for sure a good catch, dirty and fat. Most importantly, still alive.

We had a Senegalese guy help us out for our pig adventure. I was so anxious to kill a pig. Ive never killed a pig people. Where do you cut it? How do you gut it? How long is going to take? But our Senegalese friend beat me to the punch. He just walked over and stabbed the thing in the heart. Im sorry to scare you all like this. Pardom me for the graphic details to all of you whom like to keep little animals alive. But Felix, the Senegalese bad ass, took out his Rambo man-knife and killed MY pig. The pig that I have been looking forward to kill ever since I ate my last pork chop in the States.

AT THIS POINT, IF YOURE OFFENDED BY THE KILLING OF ANIMALS, PLEASE STOP READING

Felix went for the pigs heart. He clearly missed. Poor little Porky was screaming SO loud that everyone came to see who was making such noises. At one point Wilber, decided it was smart to try to stand up and run away. We had hog tied his hind legs, but his two front legs were free to go. He got up with the knife still in his chest. I went over and held the dirty thing down, explaining to Felix that a pigs heart is not located in the shoulder. I started to feel bad for him, really. So Felix decided that itd be an even BETTER idea if he just stabbed it until it died. He stabbed Porky a good 100 times, making Felix even more brutal than OJ. Finally the pig died.

"Who wants to gut it" asked Felix. I told him that he killed it, so he had to gut it. Knowing full well that I wasnt going to gut the thing if I killed it, I handed the knife back to Felix.

This was weird, but Felix shaved the pig. He literally took out the very same razor he used to shave with that morning, and he shaved it. Porky couldnt have a 5 o clock shadow for the hog roast now could he? But after he was freshly shaved and clean, Felix opened him up. Poor pig ate a very delicious diet of garbage and cigarette butts still visible in his insides. That was nasty.

Justin and I wouldnt be good Christians if we didnt help the poor and share some of the meat to the locals. We donated the pig balls and liver and all the other yummy insides. I wanted to keep the head, but Justin said NOOOOOOOO.

So the day went on...Justin and I kinda killed a pig and cooked it. It was good, but I think its going to be the last pig I ever kill. Good bless America and its illegal Mexicans for killing our pigs for us.

Please take a few minutes and read

2006-06-09T04:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Friend or Family Member,

You've been invited to visit Brayden Browne's online CarePage.
A personalized Web page, called a CarePage, has been created
for Brayden, so you can easily receive
the latest news, view photos and share messages of support.

To visit the CarePage, please click the link below:

http://www.carepages.com/ServeCarePage?cpn=BraydenAshtonBrowne&extrefid=tlcinvite

(If you cannot click through this link, please copy and paste the
entire URL into your browser's address window.)

..or you can use these manual instructions:

1. Go to www.carepages.com
2. Click "Visit a CarePage"
3. Register (first-time users only)
4. After you've registered, enter the exact CarePage Name below:

BraydenAshtonBrowne

Please forward this e-mail to anyone who would be a meaningful part
of Brayden's support group.

What a BIG Surprise

2006-06-09T04:19:00.000-07:00

It had been a good night sleep, unlike many nights before. Not too hot; not too cold. Perfectly normal. I like normal. My only setback is, normal no longer exists in my vocabulary. I had decided months ago that waking up before 9AM is almost useless and quite simply uncalled for. Not is it only already hot by 8AM anyway, but the days go by a little faster when you sleep through them.

It was only half past 6AM when I heard the screams. "God damn kids," I said frustrated. They woke me from that perfect, normal sleep I was having. "Malick, Malick....", one of many young girls said. "Malick, Malick....Jegaa o puus took ndok of...O puus, jego!!!....Malick, Malick!!!", they repeated over and over. Now Im not one to overreact when the little ones wake me before my mandatory-'Dont Wake Me Before 9AM' rule, especially to tell me that I have a bag on the roof of my hut. In Seereer, one of the worlds front running dying languages, 'O Puus' means 'A Bag'. Literally they told me, "Paul, Paul...You have a bag on the roof of your hut. A bag you have." Now mulitply that by 90 and carry the 2. Thats how annoyed I was over this mystery bag.

Since I know from experience that ignoring them wont make them disappear and bribing them with chocolate and money is just plain idiotic, I decided to humor them instead and retrieve the damn bag. I figured it'd only take two seconds to grab it, so why worry about putting on any clothes. (I was wearing boxers. If the ladies here are free to roam around topless, then by all means...) I picked up a stick so I could grab the bag with it. I climbed up to see where the mystery bag was, and what do I see- A damn baby crocodile!!! Only, it wasnt a crocodile but just a huge ass lizard. But what exactly is the difference? "Yup, Im pretty sure that big ass lizards and mystery bag are not the same word," I thought as I swung my BOOM stick at the creature. (Turns out that 'o cuus' means 'a big lizard' in Seereer. I guess it wasnt one of the questions on the top of my list during training. How do you say big #&%*ing lizard in Seereer, you know just in case?)

Successfully, I pushed the little guy off my tropical condo estate. My 9AM clause could have to wait until after I hunted me some croc. I was determined. Not even noticing that I still had no clothes on, I chased it into a little chicken house outside my hut. In went the lizard; out came the chickens. Half naked, I instructed one of the kids to go get my machete, my rope and a stick. The plan was to tie a noose in the rope, use the stick to place the noose around its neck, drag him out of the hen house and chop its head off with my man-knife. Well, that was the plan, but big ass lizard was having none of that. I was tempted to just go in and Crocodile Dundee the thing, but I cherish the fact I still have 10 fingers and 10 toes. God knows what else could be bitten off, but Ill leave that to your imagination.

Finally I got the SOB around the neck and pulled him out to the open. Of course, he got loose and started to flee. "Bullshit," I thought as i picked up the machete and ran after the beast. I caught up with
him about 100 meters away and took my first swin. No luck. Took another. Nothing. You'd be surprised on how strong big #&%*ing lizard skin is. Looks like Id have to beat the hell out of it instead. Yup, that worked! By that time all the neighbros came to see what was going on. They sure didnt want anything to do with what was going on. The women stayed back; the grown men, even further. The gator was my kill, my prize, my glory. So of course I did what any proud hunter does with his trophy, I showed it off. The best way to do that, chase people around the family compound with it. I can only imagine what the village elders had to say about the whole situation. "There goes that crazy white kid again. Running around in his underwear, chasing the women around, holding on to his big ass lizard." Ah, but little do they know. Punn intended :)

It was going to be an interesting day. But it was still before 9AM. So I did what any rational person would do in that situation. I decided to take a nap. "Dont even think about waking me before lunch time....zzzz....ZZZZ"

Third World Driving Hints and Tips

2006-06-07T05:39:00.000-07:00

Road Hazards

What would be a road hazard anywhere else, in the Third World is probably the road. ThEre are two techniques for coping with this. One is the drive very fast so your wheels 'get on top' of the ruts and your car sails over the ditches and gullies. Predictably, this will result in disaster. The other technique is to drive very slowly. This also results in disaster. No matter how slowly you drive into a ten-foot hole, you're still going to get hurt. You'll find the locals themselves can't make up their minds. Either they drive at 2 m.p.h.- which they do every time there's absolutely no way to get around them. Or else they drive &t 100 m.p.h.- which they do coming right at you when you finally get a chance to pass the guy going 2 m.p.h.

Basic Information

It's important to have your facts straight before you begin piloting a car around an underdeveloped country. For instance, which side of the road do they drive on? This is easy. They drive on your side! That is, you can depend on it, any oncoming traffic will be on your side of the road. Also, how do you translate kilometres into miles? Most people don't know this but one kilometre= ten miles, exactly. True, a kilometre is only 62 per cent of a mile, but if something is one hundred kilometres away, read that as one thousand miles because the roads are 620 per cent worse than anything you've ever seen. And when you see a 50-k.p.h. speed limit, you might as well figure that means 500 m.p.h. because nobody cares. The Third World does not have Broderick Crawford and the Highway Patrol. Outside the cities, it doesn't have many police at all. Law enforcement is in the hands of the army. And soldiers, if they feel like it, will shoot you no matter what speed you're going.

Traffic signs and signals

Mostdeveloping nations use international traffic symbols. Americans may find themselves perplexed by road signs that look like Boy Scout merit badges and by such things as an iguana silhouette with a red diagonal bar across it. Don't worry, the natives dont know what they mean either. The natives do, however, have an elaborate set of signals used to convey information to the traffic around them. For example, if you're trying to pass someone and he blinks his left signal, it means go ahead. Either that or it means a large truck is coming around the bend, and you'll get killed if you try. You'll find out in a moment. Signalling is further comlicated by festive decorations found on many vehicles. It can be hard to tell a hazard flasher from a string of Christmas-tree lights wrapped around the bumper, and brake lights can easily be confused with the dozen Jesus, and Muhammad, statuettes and the ten stuffed animals with blinking eyes on the package shelf.

Dangerous curves

Dangerous curves are marked, at least in Christian lands, by white wooden crosses positioned to make the curves even more dangerous. These crosses are memorials to people who've died in traffic accidents, and they give a rough statistical indication of how much trouble you're likely to have at that spot in the road. Thus, when you come through a curve in a full-power slide and are suddenly confronted with a veritable forest of crucufixes, you know you're dead.

Learning to drive like a native

Its important to understand that in the Third World most driving is done with the horn, or 'Egyptian Break Pedal' as it is known. There is a precise and complicated etiquette of horn use. Honk your horn only under the following circumstances:

1. When anything blocks the road.

2. When anything doesn't.

3. When anything might.

4. At red lights.

5. At green lights.

6. At all other times

Road-blocks

One thing you can count on in Third World countries is trouble. Theres always some uprising, coup, or Marxist insurrection going on, and this means military road-blocks. There are two kinds of military road-blocks, the kind where you slow down so they can look you over, and the kind where you come to a complete stop so they can steal your luggage. The important thing is that you must never stop at the slow-down kind of road-block. If you stop, they'll think you're a terrorist about to attack them, and they'll shoot you. And you must always stop at the full-stop kind of road-blocks. If you just slow down, they'll think you're a terrorist about to attack them, and they'll shoot you. How do you tell the difference between the two kinds of road-blocks? Here's the fun part: you can't! (The terrorists, of course, have road-blocks of their own. They always make you stop. Sometimes with land mines.)

Animals in the right of way

As a rule of thumb, you should slow down for donkeys, speed up for goats and stop for cows. Donkeys will get out of your way eventually, and so will pedestrians. But never actually stop for either of them or the'll take advantage, especially the pedestrians. If you stop in the middle of a crowd of Third World pedestrians, you'll be there buying Chiclets and bogus antiques for days.

Drive like hell through the goats. Its almost impossible to hit a goat. On the other hand, it's almost impossible not to hit a cow. Cows are immune to horn-honking, shouting, swats with sticks and taps on the hind quarters with the bumper. The only thing you can do to make a cow more is swerve to avoid it, which will make the cow move in front of you with lightning speed.

Actually, the most dangerous are the chickens. In the United States, when you see a ball roll into the street, you hit the breaks because you know the next thing youll see is a kid chasing it. In the Third World, its not balls the kids are chasing, but chickens. Third Worlders are remarkably fond of their chickens and, also, their children (population problems not withstanding). If you hit one or both, they may survive. But you will not.

Accidents

Never look where you're going- youll only scare yourself. Nonetheless, try to avoid collisions. There are bound to be more people in that bus, truck or even on that moped than there are in your car. At best youll be screamed deaf. And if the police do happen to be around, standard procedure is to throw everyone in jail regardless of fault. This is done to forestall blood feuds, which are a popular hobby in many of these places. Remember the American consul is very budy fretting about that Marxist insurrection, and it may be months before he comes to visit. If you do have an accident, the only thing to do is go on the offensive. Throw big wads of American money at everyone, and hope for the best.

Safety Tips

One nice thing about the Third World, you dont have to fasten your safety belt. (Or stop smoking. Or cut down on saturated fats.) It takes a lot off your mind when average life expectancy is forty-five minutes. -PJO

What a BIG Surprise

2006-06-07T04:45:00.000-07:00

I picked up a stick so I could grab the bag with it. I climbed up to see where the mystery bag was, and what do I see- A damn baby crocodile!!! Only, it wasnt a crocodile but just a huge ass lizard. But what exactly is the difference? "Yup, Im pretty sure that big ass lizards and mystery bag are not the same word," I thought as I swung my BOOM stick at the creature. (Turns out that 'o cuus' means 'a big lizard' in Seereer. I guess it wasnt one of the questions on the top of my list during training. How do you say big #&%*ing lizard in Seereer, you know just in case?)

Successfully, I pushed the little guy off my tropical condo estate. My 9AM clause could have to wait until after I hunted me some croc. I was determined.

Not even noticing that I still had no clothes on, I chased it into a little chicken house outside my hut. In went the lizard; out came the chickens. Half naked, I instructed one of the kids to go get my machete, my rope and a stick. The plan was to tie a noose in the rope, use the stick to place the noose around its neck, drag him out of the hen house and chop its head off withmy man-knife. Well, that was the plan, but big ass lizard was having none of that. I was tempted to just go in and Crocodile Dundee the thing, but I cherish the fact I still have 10 fingers and 10 toes. God knows what else could be bitten off, but Ill leave that to your imagination. Finally I got the SOB around the neck and pulled him out to the open. Of course, he got loose and started to flrr. "Bullshit," I thought as i picked up the machete and ran after the beast. I caught up with him about 100 meters away and took my first swin. No luck. Took another. Nothing. You'd be surprised on how strong big #&%*ing lizard skin is. Looks like Id have to beat the hell out of it instead. Yup, that worked!

By that time all the neighbros came to see what was going on. They sure didnt want anything to do with what was goin g on. The women stayed back; the grown men, even further. The gator was my kill, my prize, my glory. So of course I did what any proud hunter does with his trophy, I showed it off. The best way to do that, chase people around the family compound with it. I can only imagine what the village elders had to say about the whole situation. "There goes that crazy white kid again. Running around in his underwear, chasing the women around, holding on to his big ass lizard." Ah, but little do they know. Punn intended :)

Do You Know What Time it is?

2006-06-07T04:02:00.000-07:00

Senegalese time is a concept that Im just now getting use to. Life in America is very fast compared to time here. In the morning it takes me 45 minutes to an hour to greet everyone. Of course greetings are the most important part of this society. The great part about it is that all the greetings are the same to everyone, everyday, everytime. Imagine a broken record saying, "Good morning. How's the family? Did you sleep well?....Good morning. How's the family? Did you sleep well?....Good morning. etc..." Not a whole lot to think about. Its all part of the routine.

After making my presence known to the village, I try to retreat to my room for the hot part of the day (of course this is from sun-up to sun-down). This is where the fun begins. On an ordinary day, I spend about an hour just looking at my wall. Its not like its a special wall or even a pretty looking wall. im usually bored. After that I read M-Q in Websters dictionary. Its a good life. The rainy season is still two months away so Im just basically useless right now. Ive run out of ideas to keep myself busy. Time flies when you're having fun, right?

Time for the villagers is kind of the same except that they stay busy all day, sleeping and drink tea. Must be hard! A typical conversation I have with my brother sounds a little like this....

ME: "Babacar, Good morning. How's the family? Did you sleep well?"

BABACAR: "Malick, the family's good. I didnt sleep too well last night."

ME: "Maybe you would sleep better at night if you didnt nap all day. Drinking tea probably doesnt help either."

BABACAR: "Yeah, I know."

ME: "so, are you going to work today?"

BABACAR: "No, not until maybe Thursday."

ME: "Thursday huh? Today is Friday. What are you going to do until then?"

BABACAR: "Im going to sit. I might make tea. But Im going to sit."

ME: "You're going to sit. Is that all?"

BABACAR: "yah, Im going to sit. I ,might make tea. But Im going to sit."

ME: "Sounds fun, Babacar. Enjoy sitting."

I dont blame them for their lack of motivation. If there's no money to be made, theres no incentive to really do anything. Though I do have to say that America takes pride on their organizational skills and their obsessions about being on time. The Senegalese take pride of their all day celebrations. For example, another typical conversation I have with my brother sounds like this:

ME: "Babacar, Good morning. How's the family? Did you sleep well?"

BABACAR: "Malick, the familys okay but we dont have any money. Can I have some money to buy tea?"

ME: "No, but Ive been working on a plan here for two days about bringing more work into the village. Id like to have a meeting with the village tomorrow and see what they think."

BABACAR: " But there's a baptism tomorrow. We're going to kill a goat and everything. We'll party all day."

ME: "Thats okay. I only need to talk for 5 or 10 minutes."

BABACAR: "But theres a baptism tomorrow."

ME: "well, what about the day after?"

BABACAR: "YOu know Fatou's daughter's friend of a friend Ahmed Ndiaye?"

ME: "Yeah, he's from two villages over, right? Why?"

BABACAR: "He died last night. After the funeral there's another baptism."

ME: "I GIVE UP!!!!"

Parle Vous HUH?

2006-04-09T10:13:00.000-07:00

Last week I hosted two American exchange students in my village, Liz and Jane. Liz lives in New York. Jane is from Wala Wala Washington, home town of the Wala Wala onion I hear. It was exciting to host these girls for a few days. The girls both spoke amazing French. My French on the other hand is as good as my Swahili. It doesnt really exist. My luck though, my village doesnt speak much French, so it sucked for them. This story is neither funny nor exciting for any of you, other than the fact that Paul had two girls sleeping in his bed...without Paul. I had to sleep in my host brothers room. His bed gave me scabbies, or some other form of nasty rash on my arms. Hope they make a cream for that.

Bukki

2006-04-02T12:16:00.000-07:00

I got a puppy last week. Shes really cute, in a dog kind of way. I really couldnt tell you what species she is, but shes light brown with dark brown swirls. She looks like a cup of Mocha with chocolate syrup swirls. I named her Bukki(boo-key). It means hyena or "ugly person" in Wolof. Right now Im potty training her. Mostly Im just beating the crap out of her when she pisses in my room, but shes learing really fast. Ill send pictures home really soon. I hope that I can bring Bukki home to America with me. Well see though. But I do have to admit that shes a cute little runt and a good part of my life.

ENL

2006-04-02T12:10:00.000-07:00

Everyone here wants to come to America. Only problem is that nobody here can speak English well enough to live there. I live about 30-45 minutes away from The Gambia, a country inside of Senegal. Its official national language is of course English. You would think that being so close to the border, someone would be able to speak it. I have found that someone!!!! And on that note, I give you a love note I found in the Cyber Cafe here a few months ago. This note is from a Senegalese man to an American girl. (Please stay with me on this one. Ive been away for a long long time, so my sense of humor has changed drastically. I think this is hillarious)

" I have much pleasure to read you again on the net. Now I see you are decider and you have perhaps many plans which we'll shared. I saw yours pictures very nice and you are a very beautiful girl. I love you and yours pictures. Now I reply with the mines photo. Now you can see a photo only for you because I took you . I havent a boyfriend neither a girlfriend who I want to share love. Im so free and Ill be so pleased to meet a woman which is loved me like you.
Im late for my reply because it is a long time I werent gone to the net and Im preparing my first semester exam for this week. Im sorry. Apologize me! Now I want to know all to you for love and life, plan or other. Me, I havent a lot of money but Im trying my ideas and practices and my love. Ill you said all to me. Im wanting you. Now, can you say me what name I could you call? My love, my heart, my girlfriend? Thanks "

I know it is "perfect" but he has a chance on making it. This note even aspired me to want to start teaching ENL, Enlish as a Ninth Language. They all speak a minimum of 8. Why not add another? My best of luck to that guy and his new American girlfriend.

The Village

2006-04-02T11:55:00.000-07:00

Im sorry I havent updated my blog in probably a few months, but I have been busy at work. My village has been keeping me busy with a long list of objectives, and in my free time....Oh yeah, I have no free time. So I just want to write about what Ive been working on lately if anyone cares to know what Im doing in Africa, maybe even WHY.

Since Ive came to site my village has received a garden for the school. An NGO (Non-governmental Organization) donated a school garden to my community, if and only if, my community put in the hard labor. Of course that meant me. So a month into my service went by and the garden was complete exept for the guts of the operation. The NGO also donated a $5000 drip irrigation set-up that Ive been waiting four months for. Good news is that it arrived yesturday and Ill be spending the bulk of my week next week constructhing this pain in the ass. My school garden is freaking huge. Its 20M by 50M and the irrigation tubes need to be set every 60cm. So my school garden has been my nuber one project in my village so far. But there are others.....

THe bulk of my work here is a seed extension program where I give farmers a specific number of seeds that outlasts the local variety. The local variety here is bad. The idea is that I give them better seeds so at harvest time, they can save the seeds for next years sowing. My program here is of the following: I give one farmer 2kilos of seeds. 1 kilo = 2.2 LBS. When time comes to harvest that seed, they in turn have to give me back twice that amount. It teaches them to save their seeds and it allows me to give more seeds to farmers next year. This year Im working with 14 farmers and Im givinf them all an average of about 3 KILOS each. So in November, they will all give me 6 KILOS back. ITs not a very sustainable approach to farming, because giving them the choice of saving seeds and eating seeds is prretty give or take. Try telling your neighbor that he isnt allowed to eat for a month because I loaned him a cup of sugar last year.

Recently, I started a BOYS and GIRLS group. This one isnt really too special. I just have one day every month where I take ALL of the kids in my community and teach them new games and have fun. In March we played frisbee and went swimming. This month Jane and I are going to host the first annual Bambougar Malick Ndiaye tug-o-war fest. Im going to dig trenches and fill them with mud and let the kids go wild. After we can go swimming. (I go swimming ever day)

Two weeks ago I had a lotion making project. I know that sounds very ladyish, but its easy to do, and my village thinks Im GOD now. Quick story and recipe. To make lotion to grate 300grams of soap with a cheese grater. Mix in one litre of water until it foams up and thickens. After add one litre of vegetable oil (slowly). You can also add perfume, as I did. The ladies went crazy for this stuff. In the village, people dont have access to everything we Americans have, so teaching them to make lotion rocked because they can easily afford everything listed. And if you could some of the elbows and ankles here, youd congratulate me.

My last two projects are slowly coming along and they have to do with trees and fishing. To make this short. I have 300 papaya trees growing in my back yard. Later theyll need to be transplated. But waiting and watering is key. My other project is oyster:crab farming. I have set up oyster traps down in the mangrove trees to collect oysters for both eating and selling. I also bought all of the supplies to make crab traps so I can start eating crab cakes. Theyre experimental projects so well see how they go. EIther way, oysters and crabs here are tasty.

Well thats a little bit of whats going on here in Africa. I know that it took forever for you to read through this all; but I havent posted a blog in a while and Im sure its given you something to do today. Take it easy everyone. Thanks for the support. Now you know what Ive been up to.

Winter in Senegal

2006-02-14T12:22:00.000-08:00

Right now, its winter in Senegal. Dont assume that Africa is always hot. I did, and Im freezing my butt off. Of course it only drops to a nice 65 degrees really late at night. Thats so much different than the 90 degrees during the day. Not to mention the 140 degrees it gets when its NOT winter here. 65 degrees might sound like a blessing to everyone in the midwest right about now, but Im seriously cold here.

Gri Gri

2006-02-11T12:15:00.000-08:00

I bought a monkey head today. I know that doesnt really sound polite or interesting, but I bought it nonetheless. West Africa has a voodoo like belief that their religious leaders can BLESS them if they carry certain artifacts that have been blessed themseleves. Its pretty interesting. For example take Billy. Billy doesnt like knives. Billy really doesnt like to get stabbed by knives. So Billy goes to talk to his local religious leader about not being stabbed by a knife. The religious leader, or Marabout, writes a passage out of the Koran and blesses it. After Billy takes his blessed piece of writing to the local gri gri maker. The Gri gri maker can make a necklace, ring, belt, etc with the blessed piece of Koran inside. Its like magic. Now Billy believes that if he wears his new gri gri necklace, hell never be stabbed. It seems to work. Ive never seen anyone stabbed here. My village has a local marabout that im friends with. Ive thought about talking to him. Because like Billy, I too dont like to be stabbed by knives. But you can have a gri gri made for really any purpose. Good luck with school, money, love, etc... I could have used one of each about a year ago when i was in school, broke, and when Naeda dumped me and etc...

moral of the story: I bought a monkey head from the gri gri maker. Its the size of my fist and he looks like hes smiling.

Obligation

2006-02-11T11:52:00.000-08:00

I fell obligated to write something, but I just cant think of anything to write about. Tomorrow im on my way back to Thies. Thats pretty exciting, right? For the next three weeks ill be able to ,check my email whenever I want. Thats a blessing here. Africa is exactly what you think it is, its Africa. Now I dont mean to be negative but someone has to say it. Though to be 100% fair, Senegal isnt really Africa. Picture 1800s Western America living in the 1980s. Theres a lot of sand. There hardly any electricity. The industrialized world is ALMOST here. And everyone wears our leftover clothes from the "Footloose" era. But I cant complain. I love the clothes here. Theyre cheap. And my village doesnt count, because everyone has solar powered everything, including me. Its the best investment that Ive never paid for. Except for just about everything I own back home. Well, im a ramblin man. And to think that i had nothing to say.

Hush Hush

2006-02-05T15:08:00.000-08:00

So football season is coming to an end. To tell you the truth, I dont even know when it started. Africa doesnt know anything about football. They only know soccer, which is ironically called football here. Though, the Senegalese DO wear American sports gear. I see NY Yankee hats, Philly Eagle jerseys, etc... But when I ask, they have no clue about football or baseball.

But the SuperBowl is on Feb 5th, one day after my birthday. If you could please just forget to tell me who wins, that would be great. Id rather be stupid for a while until I get to watch the game. Though I do think the Seattle is going all the way this year. And much props for Chicago this year.

New Diet Plan

2006-02-05T14:37:00.000-08:00

I finally found a new diet plan that actually works. All of you still counting calories and/or still on the atkins diet are fools. I call my new eating habits THE AFRICAN DIET. So far Ive lost 28 pounds. No lies. So for only 80 cents a week you can sponsor me so I can eat a nutritious meal. I can draw you a picture and send you a monthly news letter about my people. It'll be good times. But seriously, Im fine here. I eat well. I sometimes eat breakfast. For lunch I eat rice and fish. For dinner I eat millet and fish. For all of you wondering what millet is, picture dirt and...well, just picture dirt. Thats what I eat. I eat dirt. And thats why the African Diet works.

yum

2006-02-05T14:16:00.000-08:00

So Wednesday the 10th was a religious holiday here and everywhere in the world. They call it Tabaski. Quite simply, its Christmas for Muslims. To clearify Tabaski, it is simply a holiday that celebrates Abraham. This is the same Abraham that the Bible talks about. Yes, Christians and Muslims have the SAME God. Well, for all of you who are not religious buffs, Abraham sacrificed his son in the name of God because God told him to. Right before the moment of death, God stopped Abraham and so on and so on. Tabaski is the holiday that celebrates this. So instead of killing their sons, Muslims kill a sheep instead. So I ate about 8 years worth of sheep in just 2 days. Impressive? So on an educational note, next time you hear someone bashing a Muslim person because of terrorism, remember:

Islamic fundamentalists (terrorists) are to Islam, like the KKK is to Catholicism. The majority of Muslims ARE not terrorists. They are really religious people who share the same God as you and the other 92% of the worlds population.

Lisa its your Birthday, Happy birthday Lisa! (Simpsons)

2006-02-04T12:05:00.000-08:00

Today is my birthday as you all already know. Jane and I decided to head to our friend Justins neck of the woods. Justin has been here for a year now and he has a Saturday afternoon radio show. We figured hey, lets go be on the radio. So from 1-3 today, we played all of the American songs that arent allowed to be played in America. Nobody speaks English here so its okay to get away with vulgar words and graphic songs containing bitches and hoes. Now tomorrow I have to go back to my village and explain exactly everything that was played on the air. The villagers might not be to par with educational standards, but they have a memory on them like no other. They'll want to know why exactly why Jay_Z has 99 problems, but his bitch aint one. They dont need to understand the meaning of bitches, because theyll make me explain the concept to them. Then for the next two months, everyone'll be asking me where all my "bitches" are.

Paul's New Number

2005-12-27T14:49:00.000-08:00

Paul accidentally posted the wrong phone number on his previous blog. His actual phone number is
011-221-452-5943

Matt

My village is crazy

2005-12-26T08:49:00.000-08:00

SInce the first week Ive been in my village, the villagers have all been trying to marry me off to the only decent woman in town. Isatou Barro is the daughter of my friend Lamine, and the sister of Esmala. Both Lamine and Esmala are really cool guys. Though, they are trying really hard for me to have sex with their daughter so I can marry her. Dont get me wrong, Isatou is quite a hottie. Actually, shes really gorgeous. Theres just the whole me-American, you- African deal. We dont even speak the same language, except that I do speak hers now.

Last week, Lamine and I took the shotgun down to the river to shoot dinner. We were sitting there waiting and he asks me,

"Malick, wo fuuda o piy es, Isatou, es a mosaa? Wo bugaa o ten?" Then I said, "Wo koo dof, Mi jegaam o toog na Amerik. Bugaam o toog es soom, ndaa io, wo piy of a mosaa mac."

Translation:

Malick(me), you think my daughter, Isatou, is pretty? Do you want her?

Then I said...

You're crazy. I have a girlfriend in America. I want my girlfriend only, but your daughters really hot.

Lamine and I started laughing. Now every time I see him, I yell from 50 feet away as loud as I can.... SAI SAI REFO. (Callng him a trouble maker)

To make this even more interesting....

I showed the women in my village my picture of DAD. Wow, I have never seen so many women fight over the same man without even knowing him. They were seriously calling dibs on him. My Senegalese Aunt has been bugging me all week to call DAD and tell him she thinks hes the most handsome man shes ever seen. She said that he needs more than just one wife, and that shes willing to fill the slot. So Dad, if you ever get tired of mom, I have about 50 African chicks here that want to make you a happy man. Youre the new heart-throb here in Senegal. You make Brad Pitt look like Lyle Lovett. Congratulations Sai Sai.

Send me cookies

2005-12-26T08:29:00.000-08:00

My address in Africa is....

Paul M. Powers (Malick Ndong)
BP 64 Sokone via Kaolack
Senegal, West Africa

Seriously, I want cookies!!!

More money down thehole

2005-12-26T08:24:00.000-08:00

Got a new phone. Nothing really special. Actually it looks exactly like the same phone I just had. It could possibly be the same one. How ironic it would be to actually buy the exact phone twice, once brand new and once stolen... yet brand new. Got a new phone number too. Its not as easy to remember as the last one, but it will do just fine.

011-221-452-5243

Feel free to call anytime.

941 3842

2005-12-24T10:45:00.000-08:00

So someone stole my phone two days before Christmas. Im not really mad, but it proves my theory that people are assholes around the holidays. Though, Im going to buy a new phone here soon. A bigger and b etter one, now that I have the funds. So dont you worry, except for those of you whom havent ever called yet. You should be ashamed. The number of the house ill be at for Christmas is the PC house in Kaolack. The number is 011 221 941 3842. SO if you were going to call me for the holidays, call this number, otherwise you might have a conversation with Ibram or Muhamad, or whoever has my phone now.

Merry Christmas

2005-12-24T10:40:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I wish I could be there with you all to share the holidays, but im stuck here in Africa for a while. Though I wish you happy holidays and hope everyone is safe and well. Love you all. Bon Joel!!!

Village life

2005-12-17T06:38:00.000-08:00

Village life is a lot different than your lives back home. My village is called Bombugar Malik Ndiaye. Its it seriously the most beautiful place in all of Senegal (even without being bias). From a town called Sokone, I , take a horse or walk 4K to my vilage. Along the way is a beautiful landscape of giant trees hills and savannah grass. It looks more like a fantasy dream thanit does Africa. While walking, i look to my left and see the clear blue river. The river is connected to mant other little rivers that again are connected to the Atlantic Ocean only a few miles West. Before I get to my village I see a large green ball covering the trees in the horizon. It is our church (mosque). The village has a school, two general stores, and family compounds. The lmost beautiful, and my most exciting part of day, is the river. I walk down to the river and I can walk knee high out to the mangrove trees. After that, I can take a short swim or just sit in the water to cool off. I recently just helped the men in my village build a boat. We had a boat ceremnoy last week. I have pictures. Though I only have two minutes left, so I have to go. More village stories to come.

YO HO HO

2005-12-17T06:08:00.000-08:00

So I lied. I DO have the internet here at my site. So I'll be posting more stories soon. Though I have to get going. I have 548 emails to go through in an hour. Love you all.

PS I will have an address here at the new year. I will post it.

"The Life"

2005-11-22T12:13:00.000-08:00

Come this Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, Im officially done with training. I can now tell you how to say useful phrases in Seereer like, "this Coke is as warm as piss, go get me another one you evil woman." Can you believe I actally learned that phrase today? Though Im glad training is over. The only downfall is that for the next three months Im going to be living in my village. I wont really be doing anything in my village except for talking with people and getting myself established. I wont be working or travelling, and i wont be going to class. Instead, I have three months of downtime to just meet everyone and to learn my environment. Its going to be very boring!! This is important because I made a promise to stay in my village for the whole three months. I have the option to visit anyone in my region, and my region is huge. Though I'm excited to meet my new Senegalese family and friends. Ill be spending the next two years with them and I want them to respect me. So what Im trying to say is that I wont have internet connection for three months. You can still email me, though i wont get them for a while. Instead I urge you to call me or write letters. Once I get my new address in SOKONE, I will find a way to post it on my blog. Please send letters, it will give me something to do in the next few months, and years. Theres a lot of down time here and things get boring really fast. I still have a cell phone too, and I keep it on at all times. Well, if I dont here from anyone in three months than good luck and bon voyage.

"Dilooxaam mbind es na Amerik, ndaa cinj estass, Kaam nomtoox kaa mbind es ga' Basil es na Amerik. Bugaam nuun fop. Kaa i njeetaay kaa na ongool onge taduk. " -Pape Ngom

"I miss my home in America, but after my service, I will return to my home and family in America. I love you all. We will talk in three months." Paul Powers

Thanksgiving

2005-11-22T11:52:00.000-08:00

Ok folks. Its about that time of year that we would all get together for a huge feast and celebrate friends and family. I'm sorry I cannot be there in person, but believe me when I say that I'm there in spirit. Before I left for Africa we had Thanksgiving at my house. It was a bit early, but it was nice. Matt and Dawn came from Wisconsin. Kristen came from Indiana. It was a nice early Thanksgiving. We actually organized a little get together here for all 40 of us plus all of our trainers and staff. Me ane my good friend Peter, the "Grill Master", ended up grilling 15 chickens for the feast. They have turkey here and the two of us looked for over three hours for one, but turkey is expensive. My neighbor was willing to seel us theirs for only 15,000 FCFA, which turns out to be about 30 bucks. So we ate chicken instead. It was equally amazing. I wish I could celebrate with you all stateside, but its my own decision not to be there. I promise we'll all sit down together soon. Maybe in a few years. HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!!!!

Root of All Problems

2005-11-17T11:53:00.000-08:00

An NGO(Non-government Organization) is giving my village 5 ,000 US Dollars to fund a new project for a drip irrigation system. Drip irrigation is a technique that transfers water from a large source to a smaller source, ie...a garden. The money is going towards the local school in my town, so its for a good cause. I talked to my villagers today and they were very excited about the project. They had heard rumors that they might get it. The Volunteer before me was the one who applied for the grant. Well, the grant was excepted after his service was complete. So I get to steal his credit. Though I made it clear to my new friends that it was not my project. They dont seem to care. They are so excited because Im here to help them find substainable sources of income, food, etc... I hope this irrigation furthers their growth as a developing village, so that some day they do not need a Volunteer. Not having a Volunteer is a good thing, because that means they dont need one. If they dont need us, then they're doing something right.

Wanna play with my monkey?

2005-11-17T11:43:00.000-08:00

Today I met two young men from my village, Bobacar and Mamadou. They're freaking awesome. They were describing the village to me in Seereer and it sounds amazing. The nake is Bobougar MAlik Ndiaye. If you look on a map online, its near a town called SOKONE. Its near the Atlantic Ocean about 10-15 miles away, though in between the ocean and the village there is a series of twists and turns formed by rivers. But I live near a lazy river where I can go out a swim without the fear of being eaten by snakes or crocs. THERE ARE SNAKES AND CROCODILES NEAR ME. Whats most important are the monkeys. I have yet seen a monkey here in Senegal, but I live inside a national park with many tropical birds (pelicans, flamingos, etc..), tropical animals, and monkeys. I guess there are monkeys just hanging out, chillin on the side of the road. Oh, if you could only imagine...Me and my pet monkey. The men in my village all like to fish and they have boats. So Im going to spend the next few months trying to convince my village to build me my own boat. I can hire a few monkeys to service my new boat and save the angry/evil ones to stand guard. I think im set for the next two years.

Dakar

2005-11-14T11:39:00.000-08:00

Today was my first visit to the Capitol, Dakar. I didnt really do anything special. I visited the US embassy. Then I went to the Peace Corps main office, which was nice now that the weather has cooled down quite a bit. The only really good thing about my trip to Dakar was the giant supermarket we went to. This place was better than your normal Hy-Vee( or for my friends from work BETTER THAN CUB FOODS). They had everything you could possibly fathom. For just one simple second, i totally forgot I was in Africa. No kidding. The store just did not belong there. Though, I dont really belong in Africa either, yet Im still here.

God bless the US Postal Service

2005-11-13T12:06:00.000-08:00

Sending packages can be a total hassle. Mom and Dad sent me a package via UPS and paid an arm and a leg to get it here. If you feel the need to send me anything, please send it through the US Post Office, not UPS or FedEx. It will take two or three weeks to get here, but an average package will only cost around 20-30 bucks for taxes. You can save a lot of money that way. Though you can also send a lot of money by not sending me anything. But there's no fun with that. I will post my new address soon so you can at least send a letter to me in the next two years.

TAM TAM

2005-11-09T12:34:00.001-08:00

Today we had a huge Tam Tam party at the training center for all of the
home stay families. Tam Tam is a drum found here in Senegal. They play
6 or 7 drums at the same time all with different beats. Its quite
amazing. You should see how the ladies here dance. Its crazy to think
the human body moves in such a way. They danced up a storm, too. They
even let me and a few of my friends play along for a song. It sounded
amazing. My friend Charlie and I talked to the guy and he offered to
give us Tam Tam lessons. So every Friday until we leave for our
prospective villages, we'll rock hard on the African beats.

Americans in Africa?

2005-11-09T12:34:00.000-08:00

Last night I went out with some Peace Corps folk to a restaurant that
just reopened. They closed down for Ramadan. The restaurant serves
amazing Tuobab food and really cheap beer. The beer is both cheap in
price and quality. Soon enough after my first beer, I heard English
being spoken in the bar. I went to see this mysterious English person.
Turned out to be English speaking people. There was 8 ex-US military
men at the restaurant. They were very eager to talk to me and I with
them. We talked about why we're here and where we are from and so on.
It was just nice to see unfamilar faces that seemed so familiar. I sat
with them for about two hours and had a few beers. They dont speak any
local language so it was cool to teach them little things to say so
they can get around town a little more easier. They'll only be around
here for a month to train the Senegalese military, so theres no need to
really learn anything. Long story short-----It was nice to see
Americans in Africa!!!

TAM TAM

2005-11-09T12:24:00.000-08:00

Mighty Mites

2005-11-05T06:08:00.000-08:00

My mysterious hand STD came back positive with a Mite attack. Mites are little hungry bastards that resemble flees. Who knew? The hands getting better but my pride's been shattered.

A story for Emily

2005-11-05T06:06:00.000-08:00

Ok, the story which my friend Emily is talking about is quite the story. It all goes back to highschool French class. It was about this time of year. We had a thanksgiving party in Frnech and I brought a HUGE bowl of white chocolate pudding to share. Well, the party was on a Friday during the middle of the day. So after class I put the bowl in my locker. At my highschool, the lockers had two parts: top and bottom. Either way, I never used my locker. Thanksgiving passed. Christmas passed. Actually the entire year went by with my locker mysteriously smelling like skank ass. So on the last day of school, 7 MONTHS later, I finally took the pudding from the locker I never used and forgot I even had. Great story from the past.

Ramadan and Korite

2005-11-02T12:31:00.000-08:00

For all of you whom dont know. Today is the last day of Ramadan. Ramadan is an Islamic Holiday in which Muslimls dont eat or drink during day light hours. They fast for an entire month depending on the moons. The Islamic calandar is based off of lunar cycles instead of set days like we go by in the states. Well, today MIGHT be the last day of Ramadan if the moon decides to pop up tomorrow. If not, for sure by Friday.

The Fasting

Catholcs give up red meat on Fridays for Lenten. Muslims give up ALL food and drink during the days. From 7AM to 7PM, Muslims arent allowed to consume anything. Die hard Muslims even spit constantly because they believe its a sin to consume their own saliva. I fasted for only two days this year. I have to admit that its really hard. By 5 PM you g et really cranky. Think of how they must feel doing it for a whole month. I for one give Muslims mad credit for what they do and why they do it. They can do that and still keep a smile on their face ALL day long. Because teh Senegalese are ALWAYS happy.

Korite

Korite is also a Muslim holiday. It is the day when the new moon shows and says Ramadan is over. Korite is either tomorrow or the next day, but in any instance I guess its party central. The people here have gone without eating and drinking during the day for the month of September. They are ready to party it up. If Korite starts tomorrow there is no way anything is going to get done. People just stop what theyre doing and celebrate. Men forget to go to work. Women stop doing housework. The kids dont have school all week so theyve been pretty lazy anyway. But Korite is a time to celebrate a good Ramadan and to praise your neighbors, family and friends and to ask EVERYONE for forgiveness for your sins. We will all walk around town eating a drinking and talking and socializing until bedtime. I cant wait. Happy Korite!!!

Hand STD

2005-11-02T12:18:00.000-08:00

So I have this rash on my hand. I dont really know what it is, but I think its my first African STD.

cliche story

2005-10-31T12:18:00.000-08:00

This story is the typical cliche beach story but guess what? It happened to me. So we were all at the beach. Nothing better to do than to drink beer. Beach plus beer plus coed party. Exactly!!!!

Skinny dipping

Took off the trunks for the first round. The waves were pretty strong. So I decided to get out because my number one concern was my safety. But aparently not. Cause an hour and 5 beers later I decided to go back in. Only this time I had no trunks so I was forced to wear my boxer briefs down to the water......CLICHE TIME.

Big wave. Drunk Paul. Lost my man panties in the ocean. So my drunk person had to walk back up the beach with my white ass lighting the way. What a great time.

What will they think of next?

2005-10-31T12:12:00.000-08:00

I got a cell phone this week. Dont ask me how that happened. I didnt really expect Africa to have cell phones yet. So this is what you need to do. Buy a calling card and call me. My poor ass cant afford to call anyone anymore so youre lucky enough to get the bill. You can find calling cards for 10 cents a minute somewhere online. Wait....Ill find it for you. http://speedypin.com/prepaid/phone-card/AFR10

Now you have no excuses!!!! If its urgent you can find me. If you miss me you can find me. If you want to talk dirty, you might be wasting my time. So my new number is:

011 221 442 0160

Dial that exact number xith your calling card and pen pal with your favorite new African American, Pape Ngom. Boo jaf lakas!!!!!

Something ate my Mexi-Man Garden

2005-10-31T12:04:00.000-08:00

This weekend we decided that we needed a break. Actually it was the first weekend that we could leave Thies on our own. So a bunch of us decided that we'd venture to the coast line. We went to a beach in a small town South of Thies called Popenguine. Oh man what a sight. FOr only $18 US a person we travelled to and from the beach for the weekend where we stayed in this pimp beach house. The $18 also provided drinks and a home cooked meal. Well worth the hard earned government paycheck. Thank you Uncle Sam for paying for my trip. The beach was clean, the beer was cold, and the women were beautiful. What more could a man ask for? Except maybe coming home to water my Mexi-Man garden. But thats not going to happen that little SOB....

Happy Haloween

2005-10-31T11:57:00.000-08:00

Happy Halloween everyone!!!! Last year I wore a diaper and I was a drunk baby. This year I am an African American. I dare you to pull that off Toubabs.

My first Man Garden

2005-10-25T13:57:00.000-07:00

One benefit from being an agricultural extension agent is that I get an endless supply of agriculture. That might not amuse you at home, and quite frankly, it doesnt really amuse me either. Theres no real benefit right now. But I will admit, I planted my first man garden yesturday. Not only will my garden be the talk of the town, its going to save us Americans from starving to death. In one garden I am growing corn. How cold I resist with my heavy ties back in IOWA. On a seperate side of the garden Im growing tomatoes, onions, garlic, cilantro, and hot peppers. For those of you who still dont see my strategy here, Ill help you out. In one plot Im growing corn. I plan on pounding the shit out of it and making some damn Tostitos. My other plot is my "salsa" plot. I plan of living it up South of the Border style. Show these Senegalese people how we party back home. Who knows, what I dont eat Ill sell to the other Taubobs at the center. (Taubobs=white folk) So I hope youre exited as I am about my Mexi-MAN garden.

You get what you pay for

2005-10-23T13:52:00.000-07:00

I got my first African haircut today. Lets just say that it was an experience. I dont know if you know this or not but "black people" hair is just much more different than "white people" hair. With that in mind, you can easily conclude that my barber didnt really know what to do with my hair today. He did try his best though. But you really do get what you pay for. When I told my Senegalese family that I pay about 10,000 CFA for a haircut in the States they almost died. I only paid 300 CFA. That rounds out to be about 63 cents. The benefit from this experience is that its much more cooler on my head now that I dont have any hair.

TOP 10 Things I Miss

2005-10-18T16:10:00.000-07:00

1. Cold liquid (Beer, water, pop, showers)

2. Big Ten Football

3. Home cooked meals

4. Clean sheets, clean clothes, clean hands, clean anything.

5. Driving

6. Air Conditioning and/or relaxing fan while i sleep.

7. English!!!! Im already starting to forget how to speak. Just wait until I come home.

8. TV, other than Football (soccer) or French soap operas.

9. Dollar Menu at McDonalds. Ive already lost 15 pounds on the African diet. I can use a double cheeseburger.

10. SEX!!!!!

TOP 10 Things I Dislike About Senegal

2005-10-18T16:03:00.000-07:00

1. Call for prayer keeps me up until 2am. Call for prayer wakes me up at 5 am.

2. Walking through sand EVERYWHERE I go.

3. Maalo fo lip (rice and fish) at every meal gets a little old.

4. Trash=Garbage=Ground=Everywhere

5. Malaria pills. Need to study? Pop a Malarium and i promise you wont sleep for days. Plus side, I have really vivid sex dreams when i do sleep. Its like directing your own adult film.

6. Having to aim while taking a shit through a three inch hole in the ground.

7. Mosquito bites I find in places I dont even know I have.

8. The beer tastes like filtered piss.

9. I pretty much disliked the Gold Bond Pudding.

10. HEAT I have a new meaning for sweatin balls!!!!

Happy Birthday Mama

2005-10-11T16:52:00.000-07:00

Happy birthday Mom. Wish I could be there. Hello to everyone else as well. Mom has my address and phone number. Get it from her. Take care and happy birthday

Pauly

Three #@&%ing languages?

2005-10-11T16:48:00.000-07:00

The idea behind the host family program is not only in place to help Volunteers transition into a new society, but it allows the Volunteer to practice their language skills. Ive gone through both survival Wolof and Pulaar since Ive been in Senegal. With no surprise, theyre teaching me ANOTHER language, called Seereer. Out of the 42 of us Volunteers, only 2 of us are learning Seereer. My family speaks Wolof, French, English(kids), and Seereer. So its nice to sit down with them every night and talk in 9 different languages. IT gets difficult at times, though its also very rewarding. Every night I leqrn how to speak more and more Seereer and a bit of Wolof. I have to practice my Pulaar on the streets with the friendly strqngers who love white people. SENEGAL LOVES AMERICA. Since my family knows Seereer and thats the language ill be speaking for the next two years, they get to verbally beat the shit out of me for the next few months. Lucky them.

Host Family

2005-10-11T16:38:00.000-07:00

The Peace Corps have a host family training program here in Senegal. The idea of the program is to help us trainees transition into the Senegalese culture by living with a family here in Thies. From 8 am to 630 pm we got to class at eh PC training center. After class is over, we go home to our host families. I cant speak for the other Volunteers here, but the host family program rocks my world. My family is simply amazing; They dont treat me as a stranger here because Im now an actual member of their family. Sorry American Mom and Dad. My Senegalese family lives in a very nice compound with a Mangoe tree orchard, electricity, running water, television, and cold freaking showers (which you learn to appreciate here in Africa). Baba Ngom is a botanist. Hes not only my father? hes the man of the compound. He has many brothers and kin running around the compound, but hes totqlly the man in charge. Hes super Muslim nice. Khady NDiaye is my mother. She cooks, cleans and watches over
the kids. Shes the sweetest lady in the world. Saliou Ngom is my closest brother. He speaks English very well and thinks Tu Pac is still alive. Though he does keep coming out with more albums. Hes always making me laugh. Moussa is my older brother. Hes 26. He also speaks really good English and he loves America. Moussa is a web designer and we like to talk politics. Hes not a big fan of George Bush. He wants to work in the US or France some day and I hope he gets there somehow. I have two other brothers I have yet to meet. Birane is at the Univerisity of Dakar and Pape is in Dallas Texas. As you can see, my family is loaded here for Senegalese standards. They named me after Pape and Im honored. My new name in Thies is Pape Ngom. My Tamba name is Pate Sy. I can tell Im going to have many names by the time i come home. And last but not least, I have a sister, NDeye Fatou Ngom. we call her Fatou. shes only 15 but shes smart, beautiful and byfar the sweetest 15 year old Ive eve
r met. IT will tame some time to remember everyone elses name in the compound.

Its really nice to just hang out with the family to watch tv and drink tea. I hang out with Saliou and Moussa and their friends. The Ngom family treat me like im one of their own. So theres no need for anyone to worry because im in good hands here.

Gold Bond Pudding

2005-10-09T11:56:00.000-07:00

The food at the training center is amazing. The food at the village was bad. For breakfast we had bean sxandwiches which were a blessing. For lunch we ate rice and fresh butter. it wasnt bad but wasnt close to good. Dinner was an experience. The dish we had every night is called lechiri e haako. lechiri is mashed corn powder. Haako is a paste made from sheep fat and the leaves of a bush found outside of town. It tasted like a grassy turd rolled in Gold Bond powder. though i smiled while i slowly and painfully tried to swallow. for a treat we had unpasteurized milk with the Gold Bond Powder. I call it Gold Bond pudding. Chief warned us that if we ate it we might get sick. But i did it for the shit and giggles. Luckily i had the giggles and not the shits. I can see myself losing a lot of weight here in Senegal. "i lost 50 pounds on the Gold Bond diet."

How's your dick?

2005-10-09T11:49:00.000-07:00

The village in Tamba I was sent to is near Bakel, on the border of E. Senegal, Mauritania, and Mali. I was 100 miles away from the hottest spot on earth. It was interesting to say the least. I stayed with a Volunteer named Glen from Alaska. If thats not ironic? Glens been there for about a year or so. He was a very nice host and he spoke amazing Pulaar. My village was interesting. They were really strange, goofy and perverted. I blended in perfectly. We stayed with Chief, who was my first Senegalese father. He named me Pate Sy, which is name that comes from a noble family of scholars. I didnt complain. The village was SO funny. They saw the knife I was carrying and instantly said I was a real Pulaar. The men said I had a good dick because Pulaar men have good dicks. Since I had a Pulaar knife, I had a Pulaar dick. The women all came around playing grab ass with us white people. They too were interested in seeing our dicks. Chief told us that Glen didnt have a good dick because he couldnt get it up. It was seriously the funniest thing Ive ever heard. Around the well, the women fetched water while they made fun of each others vaginas. our village had nothing better to do than to talk about dicks and vaginas. What a great time. Poor Glen. He should buy a knife. Then maybe he can get his dick up.

Tamba

2005-10-09T11:38:00.000-07:00

There was a reason why we learned survival Wolof. The PC sent us out to villages across Senegal. Volunteers here for business development were sent to big cities like Dakar or St Louis. Eco tourism volunteers were sent to national parks. The majority of the agriculture group were sent to a region called Kaoloack; Kaoloack is a region of poorer villages looking to extend field crops and water sanitation. Most volunteers will spend their two years there. A very small group of us were sent to a region on the Eastern side of Senegal called Tambacounda. Tamba is the most exciting region, but also the hottest.

Since a few of us were being sent to Tamba, we had to learn another language other than Wolof. Pulaar is a very interesting and difficult language. Though after some practice Im able to hold a simple conversation. The people of Pulaar spend about 5 minutes greeting each other.

asaala maalekum...maalekum salam

no mbad daa...jam tan

ada selli...ko mawdum al hamdolilah

The language is bequtiful and the people are sweethearts. But learning both Wolof and Pulaar at teh same time will be hard.

Wolof

2005-10-09T11:16:00.000-07:00

There are many languages here in Senegal. The official language is French but the villages all have a local language. so the PC was nice enough to give us survival courses in Wolof. Wolof cqn be found in almost every village bc its easy to learn and it was the official language here before French. Survival means that we can have simple conversations in Wolof, find and bargain transportation, order food and drinks, and to understand directions in case we get lost. There was a lot of information thrown our way and im starting to get better at it everyday.

Nanga def? Mangi fi rekk.

Ba beneen yoon!!!!!

Senegal 5 0

2005-10-09T11:09:00.000-07:00

The first day in Thies(chie ez/ Tea ez) I introduced myself to the local policemen thqt guarded the compound. These guys are tough SOBs. Every day four new guards come to the compound to increase our security. They get a small area at the compound in which they must all stay for a straight 24 hours at a time. They take shifts to sleep and eat but they usually just sit and chill the day away. I had the honor of being the first American to go hang out with them. We had lots of down time the first few days in Thies, so I spent most of my day and night talking and of course drinking tea. We drank tea 9 times every hour. I promise you, I didnt sleep the first two days I was in Senegal. I had to learn how to get use to tea here.

The Senegalese are very funny people. They are always smiling; always joking. I tend to be the same way so I fit in very nice here. Well, the four guys i met are named Papa Alioune Faye, Mamadou Lamine Ciss, Pape Sy MBaye[my new Pulaar kin], and Papa Laye Diop. They gave me phone numbers so Î plan on calling them soon. They were all pretty cool dudes.

DAKAR

2005-10-09T06:06:00.000-07:00

When we landed in Dakar at 5am, we took a bus to Thies. Only 20 miles and 2.5 hours later, we finally made it to the Peace Corps compound. The staff greeted us with music, dance and smiles. The 42 of us settled into our assigned rooms. At the training center we had many meetings dealing with medicql, culture, food, etc... We also participated in a cultural fair. Here they set up different areas around the compound so we could learn aspects of Senegalese culture. The first stage was dress and romance. they taught us about the different fabrics offered in Senegal, the prices of the fabrics, and the different styles in which we could have the fabrics tailored. They also showed us how couples expereince romantic evenings in Senegal, because its very important in their culture. They must think Americans like to do it like bunnies.

They also showed us the local religion, Islam. They taught us the logistics of the religion and what to expect from all Muslims here in Senegal. The third section of the culture fair was useful items founf in Senegal and not in the US. This was my favorite class. They showed us the foods we are not use to, how to make juices from different trees and their fruits, and other items not found in America. The last class in which we participated was in food etiquette and tea drinking. In Senegal, families eat in a community bowl. There is usually rice, vegetables, and sometimes meat. Everyone sits around the bowl and you use your "right hand" to eat the food in your section of the bowl. They dont use their left hand for eating or shaking because your left hand is for cleaning your ass.

We also learned how to take tea. Tea time is a long process so its a good time to socialize. there is three rounds of tea. each round has one shot of tea and every round gets sweeter and stronger. The tea is VERY SWEET and VERY HOT. Though I really like it. Its my favorite past time here in Senegal.

Philly

2005-10-09T05:48:00.000-07:00

i have been in Africa for about two weeks now, though it seems like it has been months. i have ,met so many new people and it feels like i have known them for many years. I left my family and friends on 09/25/2005. Though from the moment I landed in Philly I knew that this was going to be one hell of a ride. When I finqlly got settled in at the Sheraton in Philly, I met my first couple of friends, Jane and Kari. Both of these ghirls are total sweethearts in my book. We all met in the hotel conference room, all 42 of us. We played an ice breaker game in which we all received a paper with 42 "fun facts" and we were supposed to walk and meet people and guess their fact. Of course my fun fact was boring...."Comes from the HAKEYE STATE". I guess its a huge deal that i'm from iowa. Im the official agricultural genious since of course i live on a farm and harvest corn on my spare time. Staging in Philly was really boring. Though they did give us $160 to throw away on two days worth of beer and bad food. At least it was a great time to get to know everyone. A few beers seems to open everyone up.

After our two days in Philly, we got ona bus going to JFK airport in NY. It was my first time in NY so its finqally out of my system. It wasnt anything special, so i dont plan on going there anytiome soon. I accidently overpacked for my African Safari. I had to make a few changes with my bags in the tyerminal. Instead of paying an extra $125 to check a third bag, I stuffed everything I could fit in 3 bags...in 2 bags. Houdini would be proud. I actually ended up throwing away a perfectly good suitcase. I just left it in the middle of the terminal. I bet Homeland Security was happy about that one. I had an estimated time of about 3 minutes to repack my bags. Guess what? I almost had my first anxiety attack, but at least i saved $125 on my car insurance. Visit Geico.com

Leap of Faith

2005-09-19T21:35:00.000-07:00

Have you ever felt like you're about to take a huge leap in your life? I never really explained why I'm going to Africa. I graduated from the University of Iowa in May 2005. I have had this dream of becoming a lawyer ever since I was young. I wasn't the best student back then, but boys will be boys. It wasnt until I made it to college that I saw that I had the potential to make my dream come true. I studied my ass off and got great grades and I was more than ready to go to law school. But I didn't know what to do right after undergrad. The smart move would have been to stay in Iowa and continue my education. I would go through the rest of my life being a boring lawyer making a crap load of money. I want more in life. I want to experience something I've never experienced. I want to go places that I would never have the guts to visit. I want to learn what's outside the box. I've always been that way. Going to Africa has more benefits then anyone can imagine. Not only will I experience the world, I will come home a changed person. Then I can continue my education and make the butt load of money I'm hoping for. It's a huge leap, I know. Though, the experiences I bring back with me can only make me stronger. I will have the personal and spiritual growth I've always needed. I can get into a law school that can actually teach me to become a great person before they teach me to become a lawyer. Plus, all law firms out there will see my resume and put me ahead of the rest. They'll see that I gave up two years of life, friends, family, girls and material goods so I could dedicate myself to a specific goal. Who doesnt want to hire someone with aspiration to always want the best? I WILL follow my dreams and nothing is going to get in the way. I'll never give up on the things I want most. These two years will prove that. Just have faith!

My First Semester After Undergrad

2005-09-15T20:16:00.000-07:00

By the time kids are out of school for winter break, I'll be finishing up my training in Senegal. I start my training on Septemeber 27th. Two days after I leave home. For the next three months, I will be in class just like the rest of you college kids. I must admit that ever since graduation I've constantly felt more and more stupid every day. I really miss the classroom. I will be learning three different categories while I'm there. First, I have to touch up my foreign language. The official language there is French, though they do have a few other languages. Wolof, an arabic? language, is spoken throughout the country as well. I haven't spoken a lick of French since I took two years of it in highschool. Though I did take four years of Italian in college and they're close enough. I'm nowhere close to being fluent in Italian, but I can make conversation with the Don on his daughter's wedding day. I also have to go through a cultural understanding class. Here they'll teach me everything I need to know about Senegal. I'll learn the what-to-dos and the what-nots. They'll teach us how to shop for food, clothes and supplies without being screwed by the locals. Mostly it will be a class on how to interact with a different society that's nowhere close to ours. The last class will be technical. I'll begin training in my field. It won't be intensive because I can't really learn so much without actually being in my official community and on the job. After my three months are up, I'm either sworn in or sent home. If I don't work my butt off you all might see my around Christmas, but don't count on it. I live for challenges. All of my training will take place in a city called Thies. It's the second largest city in Senegal, following Dakar-the capitol. The town is said to be very peaceful and I'll only be a short distance from the Atlantic Ocean. I don't know where I'll be after Thies, but I will let everyone know. I can't post the village I'll be in for the following two years for security reasons, though important people will know right away. Hopefully I will meet new friends and learn interesting cultural norms in these few months. Once I get pictures and get settled in, I will make sure that you'll see how my life turns out. Take care for now.

Leave It To Beaver

2005-09-14T16:58:00.000-07:00

I don't know why I posted this picture, but isn't it true? No need to take offense lady feminists. This is just a reminder of why my sex life in the next two years won't exist.

2005-09-14T16:46:00.000-07:00

When I think about my job in Africa, I can't help but feel like it's going to suck. Then I take a look at this guy and I sleep better at night! Quit complaining about your jobs!!! It could always be worse.