How time has flown by. I just checked my computer to see when the last time I wrote an entry and realized I have not been very good with keeping up on my day to day activities. I can’t believe I have already been here for 2 weeks. Other than my French still being adequate at best, I feel pretty integrated in Dakar life. My Wolof classes have been everyday this week for 4 hours a day (2 hours in the morning and 2 at night). My class rules! Our professor’s name is Ismaila, who is a small, middle-aged, unmarried Senegalese man. He is hilarious and puts up with ridiculous amounts of teasing from us young, American girls. He has been a great teacher, although I should probably try and be a better student as I have good short term memory skills, but after one day of not really studying the material, I forget how to speak anything. We do get homework most every night, but it is one piece of paper with translation sentences. My family has gotten really into helping me every night after dinner. They regard my pronunciation and struggles with bemusement, however I can tell they enjoy helping me with my homework.

I finally got the opportunity to see the new baby on Thursday night. I went with Douds and my brother-in-law (Sally’s husband), David, to see Sally at the clinic. What a baby. She is the smallest thing I have ever seen, with quite the thatch of hair for a newborn. Sally had still not decided on a name for her which is typical in Muslim families. The process is to wait one week until the baptism before officially naming the baby.

Friday we only had Wolof class in the morning since no one knew when the actual day of Korite would be, so we all had most of the day off to explore Dakar. Right after class Cath, Natalie, and I walked to Marche HLM to check out jewelry and shoes. This was the same place that I went to last week with my cousin to get fabric. It was just as crowded although less hot as we maneuvered our way through the crowds to check out the wares. I got a few pairs of earrings for ridiculously cheap- one was $.20 and the other $1. They obviously were not of great quality, but you could find the same types in most stores in the US and they would be at least $4-5. Got to bargain for the first time; wasn’t super intense like I thought it would be, but I’m still excited about the experience.

After our adventure we met up with a few of the other girls and took a taxi up to N’Gor island. We got to take a real Piroug across the bay which was fun. These boats are the traditional fishing boats of Senegal and are somewhat infamous for their colors and designs. The beach on the island was decent. We could tell that it was definitely a tourist spot as the majority of the people on the beach were classic Toubabs (foreigners, usually just a coined term for white people). We stayed for an hour or two and then decided to explore the rest of the area. Our theories on the tourist bit were confirmed as we walked around. It felt like we were in some weird little wonderland secret garden. Huge houses (big for Senegal, for the US the square feet would probably be equivalent to typical suburban homes) with magnificent gardens took over the island and were packed next to each other with big walls separating each lot. The big rounded stone walls lined the road that we walked on, giving us the feeling that we were walking in a garden maze. There were some magnificent views of the ocean at certain points in our walk, which gave us an excuse to stop and take everything in. We got back just at sunset in time for the final breaking of the Ramadan fast. My night was like pretty much every other one this week, I hung out with Douds on the terrace/patio upstairs listening to music and chatting until late in the night.
Korite, the huge celebration that has been building over the course of the fasting month of Ramadan. I woke at about 9 am to the sounds of the house preparing for all the visitors. I had told my yaay that I would help, although when it came down to it, I felt kind of in the way or totally not needed. Therefore, I took up the one job I had had lots of practice with, watching Abdoul Aziz (my 17 month old nephew). By mid morning most of the house was ready. I was given ngalax, a millet sort of equivalent to hot oatmeal with a sweet peanut sauce, for breakfast. This is a traditional dish served specially for Korite. My yaay made a ridiculous amount of ngalax so that she could give some away to friends, which I assume is equivalent to Christmas cookie give-away for Christians. I found it to be tasty, although the sauce gets to be kind of intense about halfway through. I finally got my dress back from the tailleur (tailor). It turned out really well, especially seeing as how I motioned with my hands and used only a few words in French to tell the guy what I wanted. I did have some issues with the bust area, so Maman stripped me out of the dress and did some quick seamstress work. She completely fixed it, but in the process ended up taking in about an inch around my waist…that tightness combined with my peigne, which is the underneath skirt you wear like a wraparound, was rather uncomfortable throughout the day, but at least everything stayed in place. Dressing me up in the traditional style clothing was really fun for my yaay and aunt. I found how personal modesty is pretty nonexistent as I stood in my underwear and bra for about a half an hour while Yaay prodded me, sewed my dress, and Asstou cinched me into the peigne (oh Mom, only you would of appreciated the height placement of the skirt, think natural waist plus 2 inches higher).

Lunch came at around 4 pm. I accompanied Douds to his friend Bill’s house to eat. Apparently he and his friends have the tradition of eating at Bill’s every year for Korite. I wasn’t complaining, the food was excellent. We had couscous (oh man yes, something other than rice!), with the onion sauce, and chicken and mutton. What an experience eating crammed around the bowl with about 10 other Senegalese guys and one girl. They were packing it in! I don’t think I have ever seen that much food eaten. The bowl kept being refilled and refilled. I was finished after the first round! Those of you who know my eating habits would be floored to see this group take it in. It is a battle every night to refuse more food, and yesterday was even more so as everyone kept telling me to eat more. Once everyone finished we went to the outside deck of the house and sat around talking and making ataaya (Senegalese tea which I have taken a strong liking to). Everyone was speaking mostly in Wolof, but every once in a while someone would talk to me in French. I actually really enjoyed hanging out despite not knowing what people were talking about. Later I went back to the house to be with the new baby and Sally. I ate again at about 8:30 with my yaay and papa. Everyone left the house relatively early resulting in the parents going to bed earlier than normal. I took a nap for an hour before heading over to Cath’s house for a little gathering with all of the girls. We hung out on her roof with all of us, plus two girls who are with the Kalamazoo program and are doing a shorter program in reverse of ours (they are in Saint-Louis right now and are coming back to Dakar, but lived with two of the girls in our program’s families), and Moussa and a couple of his friends. A few of us later in the night decided to hitch a ride with Natalie’s brother and friend on their way to a dance club, so we didn’t have to pay for a cab. We arrived on perfect Senegalese time, sometime after 1 am. It was a really fun time; the club wasn’t super crowded so we actually had space to dance. I saw two guys rocking it with the mbalax style dancing so I went over and started trying to copy their moves. They thought it was pretty funny, this white girl in full Senegalese garb trying to move like them. In retrospect I don’t think I was half bad; we’ll see how it goes next time. I came back home way past my usual weekend bedtime (early for Senegalese), but proud of myself for making it that late.

Today I got to experience a Muslim baptism. It was the biggest family gathering ever. My observation was that it was more about the entire family than either the mother or the new baby. I took tons of pictures because the actual ceremony was pretty cool. The Muslim religious man (I think he is called an Isman) gives a sermon and at the end blesses the baby with its new name by whispering the name in each ear. The rest of the day was spent split between the house of Sals and my house, where everyone ate. I am dog tired now, all the stimulation of meeting a ton of people, eating like its my job, and trying to think in French has been quite the killer.
A toute a l’heure.