Life Here + Week 2 in Zig

My internet connection is finally decent so I'm uploading some photos I would have liked to in other blogs. The following are photos I took on my way to work:

First Image: kids on the street happy to be in a photo

Second Image: Astou and Rama in the girls' room. Notice the drawing in the background from my nephews and neices!

Third Image:
The city bus (and the same type we took to go to Cap Skirring). On top of the driver, there is one guy inside who collects the money and another who hangs out on the bumper who helps people get on\off the bus and taps the bus to tell it when it can start moving again.

Fourth image: Taken in Dakar airport. A slot stand to slip your coins to donate. The Africans don't get the concept though... They filled it with trash! Aye!

My typical evenings after a day of work consist of: taking nap from around 3-5 pm, taking a shower if I wake up in sweat, going on internet or just hanging around, or getting errands done (going to the market if not too late). At 7 p.m., life stops and its time to rupture the fast (Ramadan). The mosques pray on loud speakers which I can hear from home. At first, I thought it was someone who lived nearby that is crazy who was yelling… They rupture their fast with a warm beverage and bread followed by prayer. They haven’t eaten all day so they are hungry; this is why life literally stops. Stores close, people on the street disappear; its quite eerie. In my family, Astou makes a sandwich with whatever she has. On some days, it was fried onions and shrimp, on others it was left over pasta (with oil and salt) from my lunch. She makes a very bizarre but excellent tea with chewy mint tablets, sugar, Senegalease tea, concentrated milk and instant coffee. The concept is not at all appealing, but its surprisingly good!

Evenings are spent doing pretty much nothing (talking, watching tv, walking outside). At 10 p.m., Astou serves supper. Mmm Mmm. She is an excellent cook. We eat in a circle out of a common round dish (usually a bed of white rice with meat/fish and sauce). Everything is made from scratch. Everyone has a spoon and eats the portion that’s in front of them, zeroing in on the centre in a cone shape. Since they eat so much fish, they throw the bones out on the floor in front of them. After supper is done, the floor is quite a mess but it being ceramic, it is very easy to clean. I have trouble getting Astou contribute to the cleaning up process…

People end up going to bed around midnight. I usually hit the sack earlier. I say “people” because there are always random guys eating and sleeping here. They are nephews or distant nephews or sons of Landing’s friends. It is quite weird co-habiting with them because they stay in the boy’s room and listen to radio or do absolutely nothing most of the time. They suddenly appear when its time to eat and retreat before the women start cleaning up.

Over here, the roles of men and women are very delineated. Women here are housewives. Seeing as how they don’t have automated machines to do almost everything (vacuum, dishwasher, washer & dryer), it literally is a full time job to take care of a home/family.

Week two:

Everything I eat here is really good but they don’t eat fruits and vegetables. For a couple of days, this is fine, but after more, it becomes problematic. Apart from the guilt of not following the Canadian Food Guide, this causes constipation! Since every day for lunch (which is at 2h30, when I’m starved after work) its rice and fish ONLY. Since Marie-Claude is on her own for meals and lives close to the hospital, we figured it would be a good idea to make lunch at her place instead. Conveniently, there is a market on my way home from work so I can pick up fresh produce.
(Image right: market in question)
Its hard though because you have to negotiate everything and its cool when you feel like it, but not for food...

On Monday, El Hadj fell and hurt his toe, breaking his nail. My parent’s reaction was funny: to seek me for aid. I disinfected the toe in bleach water and cut the part of the nail that had almost torn off. To my surprise, I learned that they don’t use scissors or nail clippers to cut their toe nails; they use a razor blade! That night, I had to fan myself to sleep: as usual, there was a power outage = no fan. My room is so hot that I *need* the fan I bought to fall asleep. So, when I go to sleep with the power out, I either use a hand-held fan I move myself or I sleep on the tile in an open space of the flat. When I first got here, there was no fan, but I purchased one and I’ll obviously be leaving it here so it is like a gift to them too…

On Tuesday, I had the pleasure of going out for beer again with my co-travellers and some Senegalais friends. Afterwards, I spent an educative session with Astou to teach her how to use a computer. Landing has asked this of me; Astou knows nil about computers. The problem is that the computer in question is slow; I’ve never seen anything like it! It takes at least a minute for a window open and minutes for a program to open. A true trial to my patience! Before going to bed, I could not take my usual shower because this time, there was no water...

On Wednesday, us three girls finished work way earlier than usual (around 12h30) and we went out for lunch at a restaurant. We started realizing that we getting fat from eating so many carbs. Since we were next to the little store annexed to a gas station which sells European goods, I decided to indulge in some dairy. To my great disappointment, the yogurt I bought (overpriced) was completely spoiled. Its not a surprise given the frequent black outs. Being the wise consumer that I am, I demanded a refund. This was very complicated in this country… Lesson learned: stop trying to buy dairy products that can go bad L. That night, Astou made a dish I’d never had nor heard of: rice with a sauce made of potato leaves (and of course it had fish in it!)

The next day, September 18, I went to Marie-Claude’s for lunch. We made a mega salad! Mmm! Note: making salads here is more complicated than usual since you have to negotiate the price of every vegetable you buy, bleach it, peel it and then cut and eat it. After lunch, it started to pour out so we were rained in for a good part of the afternoon. We ended up giving into our afternoon fatigue once again and napping in the living room. After the rain, we went downtown, escorted by the lady who accommodates Marie-Claude. She showed us the market, including the bigger and nicer European store. I had the best 15 minutes of my entire trip while in the store. Since starting work, I had several patients with facial paralysis and really needed straws to use in my treatment. I asked to buy some everywhere I went but they just didn’t seem to exist. Well! While in the store, I found an entire package!!! 5 minutes later, I got a call from Philippe saying he had bought plane tickets and would be coming to see me. So thoroughly happy, I literally jumped in the air! I couldn’t erase the permanent smile which stuck to my face for the remainder of the day :) He'll be coming from December 21 to January 15 ... Oh so very Happy am I!

My Trip to Paradise

I’ve written a lot! You might need a break while reading it all!

Scroll previous posts because I've added more photos!!

CAP SKIRRING

Friday after work, Marie-Claude and I stuck to plan and headed off to Cap Skirring for a weekend at the beach. Unsure of how exactly getting there works, we were happy that everything kind of just fell into place. She picked me up with her taxi and we headed directly to the bus station.
On taxis: All taxis in Ziguinchor charge a flat rate no matter what of 500 CFA (= 1.25$).

(Image left: a little village on the way to Cap Skirring)
The bus station was an open field filled with vehicles (such as the city buses) and people with no infrastructure. Upon approaching it, we asked ourselves: how the hell are we going to find the bus to take us to Cap Skirring? This ended up being no problem at all! As soon as we set foot outside the car, we had two gangs of people aggressively offering us rides to Cap Skirring. We took the cheapest one: 1500 CFA = 3.75$. We were crammed in at the back with people hanging out of the truck, standing on the bumper.

(Image right: on the way to Cap Skirring - this is typical scenary; lots of rivers and greenery)

As the 1h45 min drive proceeded, more and more people got off in little villages and we had more space to ourselves. Nice.

We got to Cap Skirring hungry and in need of a place to spend the night. As soon as we set foot on the pavement, approached us and asked us what our plans were, trying to help. They escorted us to a restaurant by the sea. Since we were hungry and had just walked 15 minutes with our backpacks on to get to the beach, we settled for what they had suggested: a little hut on the beach called L’Homme Tranquille. The guys who escorted us spoke with the locals and hung around. The waiter was very welcoming, saying that he was also the cook and asked us what we wanted to eat. We asked to see the menus but he said menus were useless since he would prepare whatever we wanted. Unused to this type of restauration approach, we ended up having the house special (which is pretty much all he had on hand anyway…): fries, yassa (onion and lemon sauce), fish, cucumber + tomatoe salad, rice, dessert, beer. The meal was expensive for here: 5000 CFA = 12.50$ but it was delicious and was literally on the sandy beach as the sun set. Very romantic.

Supper was really long and enjoyable. It hit the spot after our first week of work! Time had flown by as it was 11 pm when we finished. In dire need of a hotel, the guys who had escorted us to the restaurant were still there and insisted on finding a hotel for us. We told them where we wanted to go and they showed us the way there, walking with us on the beach. They asked us about our plans for the weekend and offered to be a part of them; continue showing us around. We made no commitments but said we were unsure of our plans and open. It was a beautiful night as the moon shined enough light for us to walk on the wide and sandy beach. The twenty minute walk to the hotels was majestic apart from the part when I freaked out after seeing a dead dolphin! Haha! I jumped 10 feet in air because I wasn’t expecting to see the beached creature.

They brought us to the “campment” aka: motel and there was no sign of life because it was late. Thank goodness they were there because they knew where to knock and who to wake up. We weren’t picky about the room so we go a big one with a private bathroom for 10 000 CFA per night (25$) and bid our buddies a good night.

Saturday morning, we took it easy. The reception/restaurant of our hotel had an pleasant view.

(Image right: our view from hotel where we had our breakfasts; you can see the ocean in the background but not very well because it was a cloudy day) We read a bit and had a the typical breakfast here: bread and coffee. As usual, a black guy from a table beside us stroke up a conversation with us. His name was Gambie and he was from the Gambia. He spoke English more than French but had the same type of accent I hear when they talk either language. He ended up doing the typical young man artist thing: talk to us for half an hour and then try to sell us necklaces. In fact, he gave us simple necklaces in order to try to sell his nicer ones. We made it clear to him from the beginning that we were not interested in buying anything, but clung onto us nonetheless. We eventually left our matinee hang out to go check out the beach. He followed us for our walk on the beach and although we did not mind his presence, its also kind of hard to deny somebody to walk on the beach beside without being rude. We made the mistake of not taking one of our digital cameras :) - it was cloudy, we knew we’d be returning during nicer weather and we were heading to the beach to read and relax.

(Image left: in the garden at our hotel; nice foliage + a HUGE snail on the tree - actually two snails)
Three minutes after walking in the direction of town, two friends/escorters from the night before found us and asked us why we were so late. Taken by surprise by their engagement in our presence, we retorted that we had not made any commitments for the weekend. We continued our walk down the beach. After crossing the Club Med beach, we saw the fishing part of the beach we had eaten nearby the night before. This time, the fishermen were hard at work taking a pirogue (boat) out of the water which was full of their catches of the morn. A picture is worth a thousand words, but they were basically twenty men rolling a boat up the beach with a log system. I’ll bring my camera next time! Promise!

Next to the boats was the large set up of people gutting and cleaning the fish as well as salting and drying. It was really fun (and stinky) to see them at work. I saw all kinds of fish as well as the biggest snails I’ve seen in my life (as big as adult hands spread wide open). We had three locals to show us around and at the fishing station, one of them confronted us out of the blue. He asked us what was going on? Why had we brought along this Gambian guy? Why weren’t we sticking to program? That five people walking on the beach is one too many to carry out a conversation. We were completely and utterly surprised by his unnecessary reaction. We spent a good twenty minutes in the market trying to make amends and not make any enemies. We told all three of them that we had never asked for their help and that we were quite content to discover the area on our own. The situation was really unpleasant and made me sad since I did nothing wrong to deserve it + had no idea how I could avoid getting in similar situations of the such in the future.

Turns out the guy who exploded left. The guy from the night before who had escorted us to his restaurant and who didn’t speak much – Lama and Gambie, the guy from the morning stayed. They saved face and said there were no hard feelings. We re-explained our intentions: just visiting, no intention of paying them, they can come with us if they wish.

We walked a long time on the beach past the city of Cap Skirring and to Bucotte where there is a Djiola museum. The walk on the beach was a good seven kilometres on beautiful white sand on a very wide beach.

(Image right: the entire beach pretty much looks like this: wide and perfect white sand; this is the Club Med beach)

The two guys showed us little landmarks along the way which was nice. We saw a pseudo beach mosque and were denied further access because we didn’t have anything to cover our heads and a well from which locals could drink from. Bucotte, it turns out, is not by the ocean but rather a good three kilometres from it. The trek from the beach to the village was horrid as it was hot (by then, it was mid-afternoon when the sun is at its hottest) and the terrain often difficult to navigate in because it is rainy season and the usual path was either inundated or very mucky. But on this stretch of road, we saw many things for the first time: baobab tree, peanut plantation, mango tree, rice paddies, weird insects, papaya tree and damn I should have taken my camera because I’m forgetting!

We finally made it to the village, exhausted and very hungry. The village was basically a stretch of dirt road with a couple of houses and one other road with a few more houses. Our escorters found us a place to eat that I can hardly qualify as a restaurant. We ate the only thing they could offer us: beef soup. This is not to dis any vegetarians or special diet people, but you people would not fair well travelling in small corners of the world like this! You have to eat what they have and make due!

After putting something in the stomach and resting our legs a bit, we headed to the Djiola museum. The use of the word “museum” is a misnomer in the traditional sense. This museum was basically six exhibits in the forest. And by exhibits, I mean trees. The “curator”, a guy with his shirt off, explained to us the traditional use of the trees and vegetation in the Djiola culture along with an exposition of items used for Animist fetishes. Animism is the old religion of this part of the country and it is still practiced in some villages. From what I understand, animists do not believe in a God or Allah but in random objects which are fetishes (for example: a rock). Animists go see “fetchiseurs” (their spiritual guides) to help solve problems they face. They use animal sacrifice in some fetishes. I’d love to read more about the subject! We were shown fully grown fromagers (HUGE trees) and were told tales about how women and children would hide in them when they knew they were going to be attacked by a tribe. We saw the tamtam telephone which is a huge hollow piece of wood they would bang on which resonates extremely deeply and can be used to communicate at a very large distance (our equivalent of morse code I guess). We saw how they make palm wine. We were attacked by massive ants the whole visit and got rained on at the end.

We sought shelter under the roof of one of their homes and waited the rain out – I think we spent two hours there sitting outside. By the time we left, it was almost dusk. We headed down the very wet and puddled dirt road and got rained on again before reaching the main road. We re-sought shelter at some random guy’s humble home (one of our escorters knew him). He served us senegalease tea, we played cards and Gambie smoked up.

A blurb about le Thé Sénégalais

It is served hot in shot glasses. There are three servings: the first is strong and bitter; it represents a strong man’s strength. The second is more moderate and has some sugar; it represents friendship and is “just right”. The third is very sweet and represents love. The tea is green and tastes very good, but it is concentrated and they use a LOT of sugar. The whole process of the three teas is social and takes more than one hour.

So, after the tea, Marie-Claude and I were tired and wet and wanted to return to our hotel (plus we were getting hungry again!). We decided to leave even though it was still wet out. We took the dirt road back to Cap Skirring instead of walking along the beach. We hoped we’d see a taxi, but that did not happen because the road was in such bad shape after the rain. We slalomed in muck between the puddles for at least an hour before reaching the city. On the way there, Gambie stopped to pee on the side and we kept on walking (obviously!). He then got worked up because we had not waited for him. Another weird conflicting experience in our long day… Once we made it to town, he jetted off with a cold goodbye. Lama stayed.

Covered in sweat and grim, we both were in need of a shower. I made the executive decision to eat while in town since, by the time we arrived in town, it was 10 pm. Indeed, I did not want to take the chance of walking the three more kilometres to the motel and finding out that the kitchen was closed. Good thing we ate in town because we thereafter found out that it had closed at 8 pm. We had a good meal and took a taxi back to the hotel. We slept like babies that night.

(Image left (unrelated): my family; Rama, myself, Landing, El Hadj and Astou)

Sunday morning, we took it easy again. Gambie oddly returned to our motel but our conversation with him was kept at a minimum. I still have a lot to learn about the people here… We inquired about the motel (and the one beside it) for future visits and headed to town with our bags. We had lunch in town (fish and rice!) and hit a cyber café with an excellent connection. I was able to talk to Phil with Skype perfectly!!!

(By the way, if you would like to speak with me while I’m here, you can do so by installing Skype and adding me to your contact list. My username is simply my first name dot my last name).

We headed back to Ziguinchor at the end of the afternoon. We had apparently just missed the bus so we took a “taxi 7 places”: an old station wagon which seats seven passengers. They are more expensive than the buses but less crammed. The major inconvenience is that the driver waits for all seven places to be filled before leaving. As it happens, we waited over an hour for a seventh passenger to join us before getting fed up and pooling together to pay for a seventh (empty) ticket. The ride back home remained under 5$ each.
So, my weekend was very pleasant apart from the confrontations with the local escorters. Even though the weather was not nice, it was nice to get away and see the beautiful coast and ocean. I look forward to returning :)

First week in Ziguinchor

My first day of work was on Monday, September 8. We got there at 8 a.m. and were met by Abba, the head of the Kinesitherapy Department. For those of you wondering what in the world is kinesitherapy, so did I! They are essentially the equivalent of physiotherapists in a land where Occupational Therapy does not exist. Anyways, we received a short tour of the hospital and met the Director of the hospital, Mr. Diame Bob. We also were quickly introduced to all our colleagues. I don’t think I retained a single name! The introduction to the hospital by our supervisor was short as he had to leave the hospital. About half an hour after we got there, he left and told us to start seeing patients right away. I was not mentally prepared for this at all!

The department looks like a normal physio gym. I had a panic moment when, in the same 15 minutes, I saw the place of work (physio beds, exercise machines and one lonely empty table) and was told that I had to start right away. Turns out, there are several items I can use for therapy; most of which was brought by previous OTs who have worked there, in addition to the things I brought along.

Seeing my first patient took all my brain juice! Why?
- its was bleeping hot!
- I hadn’t worked in over a month (was no longer in professional mode)
- I hadn’t seen a stroke patient in over a year
- language barrier: aphasia + accent I’m not used to hearing yet
- basic file: all it said was hemiplegic stroke victim
- 15 second blurb on the type of therapy patient has received thus far
- totally unfamiliar with working environment; what to use for treatment!

Even though my day at work finished at 1:30 p.m., I was pooped! It was hot, I was mentally fatigued and very hungry. The work schedule is bizarre: 8 am to 2 pm with no meal break. (Image left: the asphalt street near mine which leads directly to the hospital. This photo was taken in the early morning when fewer people are out on the road. Notice the state-of-the-art taxis ;) Seeing as how I don’t have any appetite in the early morn, it disgusts me to consume food before 9 am. But waiting until 2 pm is too long!! My walk back home after work is brutal: 25 minutes of fast paced walking (compared to the Africans!) in the beating sun and heat. (Image right: same road, closer to the hopital. Notice: dark sky: its monsoon season here so it rains more often - ie: once every other day for 45 minutes - ; people walking, donkey transport, taxi all share the road) Eating on the way home is not an option. Even though there are food stands and restaurants, they are all closed for Ramadan. When I got home, I was just about ready to collapse! After an afternoon meal (my first of the day!) of fish and rice, I took an overdue shower followed by a much needed nap :)

The heat here is so intense that at first, I took three showers a day. During the afternoon, even sitting still in the shade causes me to sweat. That’s just gross! I’m getting used to feeling sticky and dirty. It’s the way of life here :) The other reason for my frequent shower taking is because when I first got here, I was sick with diarrha. Too much information, I know, but it is a reality for pretty much any traveller who comes to a country like this. Its not that its painful, it’s the situations you get in as soon as you leave the comfort of a nearby, familiar toilet that causes the grief!

On last Tuesday (or the before last?!? – man! I have some catching up to do!), my friend and co-traveller, Marie-Claude and I decided to see what downtown Ziguinchor is like. We figured we’d eat lunch in a restaurant together after work on our way downtown. We walked and walked and walked – all the restos were closed for Ramadan. We ended up walking all the way to my home. Thankfully, Astou had prepared some delicious rice and fish and we devoured it voraciously. So much so that the afternoon siesta could not be delayed any longer! Our fatigue was so intense (in the heat and after eating too much and another day at work), that we took a splendid nap right there on the floor! It was kind of embarrassing, but try as we might, we could no longer fight the natural closing of our eyelids!

After our nap, we headed downtown, taking the city bus as the locals do it. We weren’t sure where to get off so we got off the bus as soon as we saw water. It was disgustingly hot, which perhaps explains the empty streets. Anyways, we saw a nice Toubab hotel called the Perroquet and decided to check it out. My ulterior mission was to find a bathroom and a marvellous bathroom I did find! It had a toilet seat, toilet paper!, a sink, soap! AND something to wipe the hands with. WOW.

(Image left: El Hadj because he is cute!)

Two toubabs walking alone attracts a lot of attention from the “artists” here who approach us to sell their crafts. Depending on your mood and how pressed you are for time, this can be perceived as a fun game or very annoying. Some artists are more sly than others: they approach you and engage you in a friendly conversation, establishing a relationship with you. Then, after about half an hour of “accompanying you to your destination” or “showing you around as a friend”, they pull out their blurb about being an artist and living by selling their items to toubabs.

Anyways, while we were walking, we picked up a few friends/artists. We got a pseudo tour of downtown. While walking, I got my first call from Philippe and was ecstatic to speak with him. Then, a sudden need for a toilet came again. This time we were in a not so touristy part of town so the option of finding a toubab bathroom was out. It was such an insult to have to hang up on my boyfriend to hunt for a bathroom :( I ended up finding one and, suffice to say, it was a very messy experience which involved fixing the toilet so I could flush the damn thing. I walked out covered in sweat and exhausted. The entire troop of “local friends” who were escorting us around all knew I had diarrhea. Haha! We laughed and they suggested their local remedy. Stop eating everything except these little biscuits they helped me buy. And you know what? It worked!

On the Wednesday after work, I had my typical lunch after work around 2h30 followed by my nap. Marie-Claude came around afterwards to rupture the fast (even though we don’t fast, we still participate…). My parents were interested in Marie-Claude’s living situation (she is renting a room from a single lady who lives near the hospital). When she told them the price she was paying, they said it was exorbitantly high and unacceptable. Landing said he would try to find an alternative in the coming days. Since we were having this conversation, I asked to find out if I owed my family anything. They explained that absolutely not. (Image right: picture of my street taken from the balcony) They take pleasure in rooming and boarding cooperants and that we did not owe them anything since we are contributing to their community. People from previous years had explained that since it is free to live with Astou & Landing, buying more deluxe products for them is the thing to do. Marie-Claude and I were in need for toilet paper so Landing escorted us to the Shell Select gas station where you can buy European things which are very over priced. It is one of two places in town where you can get toilet paper and buy fresh milk products. I bought a bunch of milk products for the family as a Thank you. Unfortunately, much of it spoiled in the following days because of the frequent and sometimes lengthy blackouts. Later during the night, Rama, my sister, helped me decorate our room with drawings my beloved nephews and nieces had drawn for me :)

On Thursday night, after rupturing the fast, I met up with Marie-Claude and Claudine along with a Senegalease friend she brought for a well needed beer. My! How I enjoyed that sole beer :)

I'll be adding more photos to this blog in the future so don't forget to breeze through it next time.

My Senegalese Family

I intend to catch up on my blog (and add more photos to this publication) more this weekend as I will be staying put in town. Access to the internet here is difficult: slow slow slow! + frequent black outs. Really trialing to my patience! I’ve added some photos I took in Dakar in that section of the blog.
Enjoy. Give me news.
If you are interested in calling me, I have a cell phone: 011 221 77 167 8606

I was put into contact with the Badjis through my host organization, Montmorency International. They have provided room and board with previous interns/volunteers such as I in the past. The house, unlike most, is on the second floor and has a balcony. It is located in Yamatong (the neighbourhood), roughly midway between downtown and the regional hospital (~ 25 minute walk to either destination). The city bus, which only does one circuit happens to pass on my street and costs 125 CFA (= ~ 30 cents).

Nobody (from Canada) quite understands how Landing (my Senegalese father) has come to have the money to afford this, but he is known as being a very wealthy man. He is a 35 year-old practicing Muselman who studied in Russia to become a Psychologist. While there, he fathered a son with a Russian chick who is now apparently 17 years old and lives in Finland. He works in Ziguinchor and the Casamance region in general; not as a clinical psychologist but as some kind of professional who deals with the conflict which happened over here. From what I understood, he uses his skills in psychology for conflict management at a macro level (rather than with individuals) and implements resolutions. Seems interesting…

Astou (my mother) is actually younger than me! 22 years old. From what I understand, she is still in school (will be returning full time in October). She said she would like to study finance and economics but that she failed some important exam. She is an excellent housewife (made easier because of Mami, the maid). She is definitely very mothering: she makes excellent meals, always makes sure I’ve eaten enough and is very generous for the little things.

Elaj (my 1.5 year old brother), is very cute and animated. Very stimulated, he is developmentally advanced for his age. He is curious, a bruiser and a little on the spoiled side. He needs a brother or a sister to learn how to share!!! I gave him a beach ball which he loves and demonstrates his pro soccer (or as they say here, futball) skills. He helped me unpack my luggage…very curious little man.

Heading to Casamance (the province of destination)

We were down to the three of us (Marie-Claude: Orthotics & Prosthetics and Claudine: Assistant Physio who had already had an internship at the Centre Hospitalier Regional de Ziguinchor). The airplane ride to Ziguinchor was very pleasant. It was 45 minutes long and during daylight so I was able to see Senegal’s coast and topography from the air.

(image right: typical street in Ziguinchor in the morning) The Casamance region is beautifully rich with greenery and has rivers snaking through it. The coast looks nice and sandy and it is my intention to spend my weekends there! There don’t seem to be a ton or roads though. I saw my new home city from the air and sighed as I saw that it had lots of green = trees = oxygen in it!

We were happy to find that our luggage had made it safe and sound and were greeted by a number of soon-to-be-important people in our lives: my new bosses, Abba and Omar as well as my new parents: Astou and Landing Badji. They were very kind with helping us carry our luggage and welcoming me to their home. I was escorted to my new home with my new parents in Landing’s 4x4. (image left: view of home from balconym Elaj in doorway) When I arrived, I met the maid, Mami and their son, Elaj (1 year, 5 months old) - who was running around naked! So cute!
I was so happy to have reached destination. Unfortunately, I was looking forward to not having to live from out of my suitcases, but the room I’m in has only two beds in it in terms of furniture.

(image right: my room) I’m sharing it with my “sister”, Rama who is a 12-year old from Dakar vacationing here. Soon after my arrival, as I was reorganizing my suitcases, I got called for my first meal (which is a good thing because I was hungry!). It was delicious rice, french fries and fish (and a couple slices of cucumber). I couldn’t finish my plate so when I was done, I told Astou. To my surprise she just picked up where I left off using the same fork. After a couple bites, she brought it to the family room for somebody else to finish it off. This was a culture shock for me because I’m so used to trying my darndest to finish a plate because not finishing it in some cultures (like ours) means that you didn’t entirely appreciate it. At the same time, I was mixed up because I felt bad for having eaten the portion I did have (~3/4). Had I known it would be shared after, I probably wouldn’t have eaten so much!

My family speaks Djiola amongst themselves so I understand absolutely nothing! I only understand when they speak to me in French.. It’s a hard language to learn as it is unlike any I am familiar with. Before leaving, I received a couple classes in Wolof but as it turns out, was quite futile with regards to my living situation… I am currently on a diet of two new Djiola words per day.

According to my North American standards, the amenities in my new home are extremely basic. The bathroom is the part that takes the most getting used to: a toilet with no rim, no toilet paper, cold water shower, no lock on the door and a very dim light. They do most of their cooking/meal preparation on the floor.

(image right: thing on left is what they use to cook most thingsm its like a mini charcoal BBQ)

My family has a small kitchen with fridge, stove and sink. Most people don’t have a fridge and cook outside on the dusty ground. Bathroom wise, there are three types of toilets:
- African: hole in ground outside with tin slates curved around it (squat)*
- Turkish: ground level porcelain (squat)*
- European: our seated toilets with the flush at the top*; high end tourist spots provide paper
* They wipe themselves (front and back) with their left hand and water so they do not use any toilet paper. Even after my travels in Asia, I have trouble understanding how they do it exactly. So, I have to bring toilet paper with me everywhere I go. And it is expensive here; I payed ~ 11.50$ for 15 rolls.

More to come in the future; unfortunately my last post was mistakingly published the same day as this one...

Dakar and my mediocre adventures
(FYI: Dakar = Capital of Senegal)

Half of the people I’ve been travelling with are to work in Dakar, the rest of us are to head down to the southern province of Casamance and work in the capital, Zinguinchor. Each team consists of one physio assistant, an orthotics and prosthetics technician and an occupational therapist. The Dakar people will be staying in Centre l’Abri permanently. Each will have her/his own room and share bathrooms and the kitchen. They are on their own for food and laundry, etc. The residence is located in a boarding type school for handicapped children and it is run by a nun. They work in different centers within the city but not necessarily near the residence.

On our first of three days in Dakar, we were very productive: we went to the bank to get cash, bought our plane tickets for our ultimate destination: Ziguinchor and bought cell phones. My impressions: the city is polluted, not very charming, expensive and dusty. (Image right: the residence street) The people are sticky and aggressive in their approach to us. Almost every kid we saw begged us for money and people of all ages would follow us on the street, trying to sell us something. Coming back from our errands to a quite and unpopulated location did wonders for our mental health! I usually despise cold showers (I take hot hot showers even in the sweatiest nights of our summers) but here, they are like a touch of paradise. Indeed, mosquito repellent + sunscreen + sweat + dust + pollution = a disgusting sticky paste that covers the body… I saw a goat get hit by a car and this startled me L I’m still digesting the mental image. There are buses, cars, taxis, motorcycles, a few bicycles and pedestrians sharing the street. The taxis are a sight to see; they are so beat up and old, you can’t help but wonder how they still run! Life here happens on the streets – it is where people do business but their business (mostly a small shack that sells a couple fruit, drink and crackers, etc) is where they live. We went to a nearby market which we accidentally discovered because a taxi we were in got lost on our way home. We had to negotiate EVERYTHING we bought for at least five minutes and even so, got ripped off (I think). Because we were so sick of eating carbs, we made a salad with tomatoes, cucumbers and onions. Mmm. That night, we had another black out. Actually, we missed electricity every night of our stay in Dakar.

On our second day, our objective was to get registered with the Canadian Embassy in Senegal; should an emergency situation arise. I woke up feeling iffy and not well rested. Indeed, my cough which began in Montreal had evolved and would wake me during the night in retching fits. We headed downtown to fetch breakfast with the city bus. The bus was packed unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I was stuck in the front door and had to melt into the people I was already crushed into every time a passenger wanted to get out. Did I mention it was hot and stinky? When we finally got out, I felt exhausted and gross. We searched for a place for breakfast but because of Ramadan, most things were closed. So, we went to the nearest resto we could find which was Senegalese with the typical national dish on special: Thei Boudjen – spicy fish and rice; not your typical breakfast but it was nonetheless delicious to our empty stomachs. With our contradictory maps to guide us to the embassy, it took us several hours since we could not walk anywhere without getting approached by locals to talk and sell things to us. Being a group of six people, its hard to keep together in the narrow and filled streets with people talking to us left right and centre. Given that we are all white (aka: Toubabs), its as though we were fluorescent in their eyes. I bought a mosquito net, African pants (which thereafter ripped) and a necklace on the way. The embassy itself was a disappointment (apart from the bathroom which had toilet paper and soap in it!). Our visit was completely useless because we simply had to telephone them… Exhausted (and me feeling evermore sick) we headed back towards the downtown core, we saw clouds rolling in and started looking for a taxi when the bus appeared. We stupidly decided to repeat the unpleasant bus experience. It was just as full and the body odor and heat were even more intense. I got to feeling really really sick. I didn’t know if I was going to faint or what was going to come out of me nor from which part of my body. I felt the blood drain from my head, my extremities tremble and my face turn green. I told my crew that we need to get out of the bus asap. I then had to finding a toilet in lightening speed in a non-toubab part of town; quite a feat!. A nice fellow in a store let me use his facilities. Explosive diarriha on a Turkish toilet with a couple Kleenexes! Awesome! We hit a supermarket (normal grocery store) on our way home because we didn’t have the courage to bargain in the markets. The store had everything but was overpriced (like triple the price we are used to paying). I headed straight to bed when we got home.

On our last day in Dakar, we relaxed. I slept in and eventually, we headed to the beach. I was looking forward to biting into a delicious mango for breakfast. After my first bite, I realized there were little white larvae crawling within it. Kinda removes your appetite for breakfast… The beach itself was quite disappointing (polluted) but it felt good to move/swim and relax. (Image right and left: beach in Dakar; beach goats!)For supper that night, we went to a nearby restaurant which served a bit of everything. I had a chicken shawarma. And then my 4-day episode of tourista started.

The next day, I was happy to leave Dakar but it was sort of sad to separate our sextant group as we had quite enjoyed each others’ company. All in all, I can’t say I was very impressed with the city.

Getting there

Sorry for going MIA. I have not been able to access internet very easily. I*ll eventually catch up in chronological order. But just to go back to the future before we begin, I have now reached my final destination and completed my first day at work. I*ll be adding more photos to this entry too.

Fear and Loathing in Montreal

On the second to last night before my departure, I couldn’t fall asleep because I was continuously coughing. Since it was late and I was overtired, I found cough syrup to calm it down. It had expired in 2006 but I figured the active ingredients must still be somewhat stable/active and therefore took it. I was too tired to get a teaspoon to measure the indicated dose and drank it straight from the bottle. I had a terrible night, but the coughing did stop J As soon as I got up, I felt something was wrong in my head. I felt like one of the characters in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (with Johnny Depp). The day went on and my bizarre buzz continued. I felt drunk but had all my faculties, I felt overtired but wired at the same time. I felt spastic and clumsy all at once.
After a quick widipedia search, I found out that my buzz/symptoms were indicative of an overdose and that the active ingredient in Benylin is similar to Crystal Meth! The drug they were hooked on in the movie!
So there I was, on a crystal meth high the day before my departure! Just the type of thing that only happens to me… haha

Atmospheric transgressions

The day of my flight, I had a family farewell gathering chez my sister’s. As the hours went by, the lump in my throat got bigger and bigger until I ceased fighting it and gave into a waterworks breakdown. Quite embarrassing considering I consciously and deliberately put myself in the position of leaving friends, family and Phil for months. My tears were not tears of sorrow. Rather, it was the realization of the love that surrounds me and the reality that I’d be far away from it for longer than I’m used to. I hope I didn’t traumatize my nieces and nephews with my perfuse crying.

My flight from Montreal to Casablanca was uneventful. I had to pay 50$ in extra luggage charges and that’s after reconfiguring my luggage contents on the floors of the Trudeau airport to avoid having to pay 100$... We (six of us travelling together) got to Casablanca in early their morning, middle of the night Canada time. Since our next flight to Dakar was only in the evening, we eventually got shuttled to a hotel where we occupied rooms for the duration of the day. The hotel was boring and there was a lot of waiting around involved. The air in Morocco was nice: it was very hot and dry. This was my introduction to the musalman world; Arab written everwhere, syllables I have trouble replicating, signs of Ramadan, traditional attire, etc.

The end of afternoon finally rolled around and we got to the airport nice and early to make sure to catch our flight. On the e-ticket, it was marked 8:30 but on our print out it was 7:30 pm. The flight was indeed scheduled for 7:30 but it got delayed until 8:40 and even later. Funny how things work… We had only been provided lunch so we were starved while waiting at our gate. So, they eventually told us (in fact, nobody in Casablanca ever told us anything…they’d just say “wait a little bit” or “go there”, waving the hand in a general direction, whenever we’d ask for instructions or indications) to go to a cafeteria below and that we’d be served supper. 45 minutes later, we each received a tray of food: almond croissant, crepe, biscuit, baguettes, and another airy crepe plus a couple dates, a hard-boiled egg and a sweet fried dough contraption. Unimpressed with our meal, we couldn’t believe they were only feeding us carbs. We thereafter found out that this was a Ramadan meal which was being served because the sun had fallen. When we finally got on the flight, they served us a normal meal (but we were already full with the carbs).

We landed in Dakar a bit past midnight. Amazingly, we didn’t get to bed until 4 am (and the airport is only 20 minutes away from our residence)! Getting through customs took a long time; it was our first taste of the non-linear progression of time in Senegal. Fortunately, everybody eventually found their luggage. Then, there was a torrential pourdown. When I say torrential, this means that between the time we got off the plane and made it to the airport’s exit, there was a foot of water in the streets! We searched and searched but couldn’t find our driver who was supposed to take us to the residence. We felt so lost in the middle of the night with persistant Senegalese people buzzing around us with all our luggage huddled under the rain. We had been told to keep hold of our luggage at all times as this was a spot infamous for theft. About an hour later, two of us had searched the busy but dark street and found the driver, Serge. It took at least another half hour for him to get the bus closer. Our luggage easily took up more than half the bus space. The drive to our residence was a slow because it was dark (no street lights because no electricity) and impressive one as everything was new for me. When we got to our to our destination: Centre l’Abri, the bus couldn’t make it up the driveway to our building because it would get stuck and sink in the mud. So we eventually had to hop out of the vehicle (which had its own microclimate as it rained on me the whole drive long) into unknown terrain with mucky water up to our ankles with no headlamps (no electricity). Obviously, our headlamps were somewhere in our luggage… We were greeted by a fine person who opened up our rooms and gave us the keys in pitch dark. Thanks to our “ex-smokers”, we were able to light candles in our rooms and access our headlamps. The electricity eventually came back on and we were happy to take cold showers and hit the hay. Our first real sleep in two days. Ouff!