After dropping off several other apprehensive volunteers, we arrived at my host family’s house last Monday afternoon to a bustling confusion of people, languages, and nerves. After staring at each other with nothing to say for a good 10 minutes, I got out my crayons and started to draw with the kids. It was a great success – I learned vocabulary - chicken, horse, car, etc. and we all got a good laugh at the drawings which only loosely resembled the things they were intended to portray. Afterward, I moved on to helping my sisters peel potatoes and wash lettuce for dinner, activities that have no language barrier. I got a new name – Kine Lô. It’s strange to be called by another name, but nice to feel that much more like a member of the family.
In the morning, I went to the market with my sister-in-law to get the fixins’ for ceebu jen (rice and fish, the national dish of Senegal). The market scene was so beautiful I had to choke back tears as we were walking through the winding paths, up and down narrow uneven stairs, and buying the fish and vegetables amongst so many other women. At nearly every vendor, I met a relative or family friend who was excited to meet me, and most spoke very slowly and enthusiastically. I did a lot of smiling and awkwardly making noises that were intended to resemble some sort of greeting. The market is full of life, beautiful fabrics, vegetables everywhere, fresh fish laid out on low improvised tables of plywood and cinderblocks, endless spices in tiny plastic bags, the sounds of purchases being made, tailors sewing clothes, donkeys and horses trotting by, car horns honking, and so many smells. I have nostalgia after just a few visits.
My host mom Awa is a tall thin woman in her 50’s. She is a widow and sells potatoes and onions at the market along with many local women. I have two sisters around my age, Kine (my namesake) and Aminata, both have young daughters. My brother Goro and his wife Joor live there with their two sons, as do another brother, his wife, and their baby girl. Also in the house are my nephew Babacar, the most adorable toddler I think I have ever seen, and an endless stream of people coming and going. I’m sure I have other siblings, but it’s all still a bit confusing.
The next 6 days passed quickly, but with no shortage of misunderstandings, frustration, information overload, and in the Senegalese spirit of life… laughter. We had language and culture classes for 3-6 hours every day, met with local teachers, built a garden at the nearby primary school, and visited and got a run-down on the health post. Language learning is happening fast, but is also very frustrating at this point; I can only communicate about very basic things with my family. My smatterings of French have come in handy, but are by no means enough to get to a normal level of communication.
There are lots of current and former volunteers around the training center to help us absorb all the information we need to navigate the onslaught of changes. My language group is 4 people and we have an LCF (language and cultural facilitator) all to ourselves 24/7 for formal lessons and endless questions.
I’m headed back to Mboro tomorrow afternoon for a 2-week visit.
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