I doubt you still read this. Why would you when so much time has passed? Isn't it funny how much time changes things? I think I'm going to start a new blog trying to capture my life now, post Peace Corps. Oh wait, I just did. You should follow it if you have ever enjoyed reading anything I have ever written. If you haven't, well, fine. Here is the link:

ucantgohomeagain.blogspot.com

2.6.2010

Today real winter paid me a visit. I'm not talking about Senegalese winter either. Senegalese winter is nothing but the harmattan wearing a Jack Frost mask. I was walking the streets of Dakar and a cold breeze picked up. The breeze carried with it memory laden smells that immediately transported me to snow covered Yosemite. It wasn't even THAT cold but it had the sting of snow in it. It stopped me in my tracks and for a moment I left Senegal and went snow-shoeing. Build an ice cave. Went skiing. Walked in fresh fallen snow barefoot. Caught a falling flake on my tongue and shook others from my hair. I could even smell the cold damp dirt and wet pine. A passing taxi honked and I was instantly brought back. The warm sun beat down on me, but the memories lingered. I pulled my colla (scarf) tighter around my neck and continued on my way.

1.12.2010

I have been absent for far too long. I have continued my writing in various forms (letters and journal) but have been neglecting this poor blog. For that, I am sorry. As a token of forgiveness, I offer to you a segment of a letter recently written to my grandmother. Grandma, if you are reading this, STOP, and wait until you get the letter in the mail. It's better that way. More fun.

How was your Christmas? I'm sure it was great and perhaps a little cold. My Christmas was incredible and definitely memorable. Myself and two of my friends (another peace corps volunteer and a friend from New Zealand) decided to take a 2 week Christmas adventure in Mali. We opted to take a bus because it was much cheaper than flying. The bus ride to Mali ended up taking 42 hours! It was pretty painful but we were laughing and having fun the who

le time. All part of the adventure, right?

Our bus blew 3 tires during the journey and after the 3rd one, we were out of spares and stuck in the middle of nowhere. We found out we were about 150km away from Mali's capitol city of Bamako, so we pulled our stuff off the bus and hitch hiked the last bit into the city.

After a day in Bamako, we took another 12 hour bus ride further into Mali to what is called Dogan Country. It's a region of Mali filled with ancient villages, rich in history and beautiful to behold. Here we spent 4 full days hiking from village to village to learn the history of the people. The villages were dotted along a large cliff overlooking flat plains that stretched all the way to Burkina Faso. The villages themselves are breathtaking. Their homes are all built from mud bricks or stacked flat stones. The doors are artwork in of themselves; intricately carved wood with beautiful designs. Many of the homes have

beautifully carved ladders that take you to the flat rooftops. We spent our nights on these rooftops under a spectacular canopy of stars. The people who inhabit these tiny villages are called The Dogan but they weren't the first to settle there. Before them were a strange group of people called the Tellin People. They are said to have been red skinned and pigmy, no taller than my waist. Evidence of their existence can be seen all over the face of the cliffs. Their old houses, some more than 1,000 years old, are still built into the cliff walls. Short little huts and granaries some 50 meters high, completely inaccessible by people today. The dogan people say that they had powers and could fly. That was how they could access their homes high on the cliff face. Some say 1,000 years ago this region would have looked like a dense rain-forest and the cliffs would have had many vines that the tellin people could climb to their homes. Either way, its incredible to see the buildings and wonder at the mystery.

Aside from the beauty of the villages, the people and the culture were incredible as well. Many of the villages we visited are animistic villages and have many mystical beliefs and important rights of passage. Most families still practice animal sacrifice and we even met an old village mage who talked about the importance of a human sacrifice every 100 years!

The hiking was a lot of fun too. We climbed mountains, walked through fields, and even dodged some camels in desert looking areas. One of my favorite things I saw was a small area of farmland between two cliffs that was irrigated by a natural spring running through the middle. Most farming must be done in the rainy season when water is abundant. It was really cool to see the farmers utilize the spring water to irrigate.

After our 4 days in Dogan country, we headed back to the capitol city of Bamako. We stayed at an incredible house belonging to a french guy our age who we had met. We spent Christmas at his house swimming in his pool and relaxing. We even made a huge Christmas eve dinner and Christmas morning brunch. My two travel companions and I went to the market and bought christmas presents for each other as well. Overall, the trip was incredible and I will never forget it.

I apologize for my long absence from the blogging world. Constant power cuts make it difficult to do anything on the computer these days. I have so much to share that it's a bit overwhelming to think about getting it all here, but I will try. Keep checking back because I will probably be back dating entries as I type them up.

4th of July bike trip memory....

The first thing I noticed was the smell. Funny how the scent of rain travels on the coat tails of the wind. A courteous warning to take cover before the rain catches up. However cover was a convenience unimaginable at that particular moment. I was on my bike in the middle of the bush.

From Dindefello Bike Trip

It was the week of the 4th of July and I along with almost all other Senegal PCVs had traveled down to the Kedougou region for the annual 4th fete. I had come a few days early with the intention of taking a bike trip to the Dindefelo waterfall. A small group of us had set out on the 40k trip at around 3 in the afternoon thinking we should have no problem making it there before dark. The beginning of our ride constantly reminded me why I love Senegal. We were surrounded by beautiful greenery, glorious mountains and the path we traveled was narrow and bumpy. The bright red dirt a beautiful contrast to the rainy season greens. The road was sprinkled with small villages. Peering between thatch-roof huts, I could see topless woman pounding meal in their large mortars. The tok-toking noise is a rhythmic intoxication quite like the sirens singing to sailors it beckons me to sit under a tree where I would stay forever. As we left, village farmers would stand from their work in the fields to yell a greeting to us and kids would shout "toubab! toubab!"

The time between villages was spent fording rivers and dodging huge rocks and holes in the road. Every once and awhile the trees would open up revealing a large meadow. The first meadow we came upon stole my breath and forced me to stop for a closer look. It was quite marshy with beautiful white/purple flowers dotted about. There were also strangely shaped termite mounds that I decided look like smurf houses. While I saw no smurfs, I'm convinced they are there. Probably nocturnal creatures.

From Dindefello Bike Trip

As we continued our journey, we were reminded of Africa's most important lesson yet again: relinquish control! Jen had a few tire blow outs that ended up taking several hours to repair. While we waited we stayed content singing and playing toss the water bottle. As the hours ticked by dark clouds began to roll over the mountains in the distance. We assured ourselves it would blow over. We HAD to believe that because we still had a LONG WAY to go.

From Dindefello Bike Trip

As we continued on it became clear that we would not miss this oppressive looking storm. This brings us back to where my story began. The smell. The moment it entered my nostrils, I looked up and felt like the darkness was pouring down upon me. Day quickly turned to night. I pedaled hard trying to out run (bike) the storm. Then came the wind. It started as a slow dance in the limbs of the trees but quickly turned violent. Gusts came from behind pushing me forward quite fast and then a side gust would surprise me from the side hitting me so hard I was thrown from my bike. I picked my bike back up and looked behind me. The image presented to my eyes was one still so vividly etched into my mind. Daniel, a fellow PCV, was pedaling as fast as he could while the violent wind tore at his clothes. Behind him was a wall of black that seemed to be twisting and turning in a large circle. My mind couldn't seem to grasp what I was seeing. It looked like some evil creature trying to swallow humanity. Nothing could be seen behind it but black. Then I suddenly realized what I was staring at. It was a heavy, dense wall of rain! With this realization came a cry from my lips,

"hurry Daniel! Hurry, go go go!" Up until this moment everything seemed to be going in slow motion; like a movie sequence. But with the new realization of what was coming everything suddenly sped up. I jumped on my bike and sped forward with all I had. A quick glance back showed the wall of rain overtake and swallow Daniel whole. I couldn't see him at all. Then, I too was swallowed. There were no sprinkles to start the rain, no, it was as if a waterfall opened up from the heavens. My world closed in quickly around me and I couldn't see much in any direction. Cold, huge orbs of water hit me hard and violently sending shivers through my whole body. The path became a slick river under my tires and my clothes clung uncomfortably to my skin. Finally, up ahead I saw a few friends seeking shelter under a tree. I joined them where we tried yelling to each other over the wind and rain. We decided it was crucial we keep going and that if things got really bad we would seek shelter in the next village we passed.

The next few hours passed with every emotion you could imagine. Joy at the realization that I was creating quite the memory. Anger every time my bike drove itself into a hole in the ground and I was sent skidding across the rocky mud. Excitement that I was living my Africa adventure. Awe at the sheer power and beauty of nature. Fear that if anything happened to one of us we were too far out and stuck in a storm to get any sort of help. Stupidity that I had forgotten my headlamp. Anytime the road got bad we would dismount and slowly walk our way around boulders and over freshly made rain trenches. When the rains finally stopped we were still left with darkness. Humor ended up being our best weapon against frustration and we were often laughing tears from our eyes every time someone crashed into a deep puddle or fell into some weeds.

From Dindefello Bike Trip

Hours passed and at about 10pm we rode into the small village of Dindefelo. We mumbled tired Pulaar greetings at the few people we passed as we searched for our campement. When we found it the gates were closed and we had to yell to rouse someone to let us in. They obviously expected no one to come in at this hour in a storm. The man was wonderful and quickly showed us to our huts and made a quick meal for us as well. We all crashed immediately after.

From Dindefello Bike Trip

From Dindefello Bike Trip

The next day the morning sun revealed a beautiful landscape. Grass roofed huts filled the village set on the back drop of breathtaking mountains. After breakfast we hiked up the mountain on a small trail following a river. A cool shade was provided by the dense tree canopy overhead. We passed a group of laughing women washing laundry in the stream and hanging it over branches to dry. Every time I passed a long hanging vine I of course had to climb up it and swing around.

From Dindefello Bike Trip

When we finally reached our destination the narrow path opened up to reveal a huge wall of rock painted in the greens of moss and algae. A shower of water cascaded down this wall and gathered into a large pool at the base, perfect for swimming. We spend several hours enjoying the cool waters before hiking back to the village and then beginning our long bike trip back to Kedougou, this time with a beautiful blue sky above us.

From Dindefello Bike Trip

From Dindefello Bike Trip

From Dindefello Bike Trip

5.15.09

My room suddenly feels like some sort of progressive Koranic school. Two talibe kids are sitting on my floor coloring, Mozart fills the air and I sit in a chair sipping coffee. I just handed them each a ripped out coloring book page and they stared at me like I was stupid. Their looks seemed to say, "This already has a drawing on it!" I said nothing. I watched for several minutes as the gears in their heads began to move. The creative side of their brain doesn't get used much here, so it took a bit to get it kick started. Finally one of them let out an "Ah!" and put the crayon to the paper. The elephant on the page began to turn brown. The other caught on quick, like he just discovered a secret, and began giving the rooster on his page a rainbow colored tail. Now they are really getting into it. The brown elephant just got neon green toe nails. This is my kind of art.

5.14.2009

This is a plea to all you back at home who want to be connected to the amazing work being done here in Senegal. My friend Chris has a great project going on in his village and I would like to tell you about it. Chris lives in a village called Louly Ngogom. It has roughly 600 men, women and children. A huge problem for his village is that there are no latrines. Basically everyone "relieves" themselves just outside of their compound walls which has lead to many health problems in the village. Chris has been working extremely hard to raise money to build 50 latrines in his village (roughly one per family compound). His village is contributing as much as they can but they still need so much more help. If ANY of you are interested in reading a short blurb about his project or possibly donating ANYTHING to the project, please visit the link below. I have been to Chris' village several times and its a great place with wonderful people. How cool to think you can be connected to them all too. 

Chris' Latrine Project 

You guys rock!

4.27.2009

"As you have done unto the least of these, so have you done unto me" 

-Matthew 25:40

I met Jesus today while I was sitting on the curb outside of the Post Office. He approached me short in stature, barefooted, holding an old tomato paste can. His ragged clothes a clear indication of the questions that would follow.

"Give me 100 CFA" Jesus asked.

"I don't have 100 CFA" I lied. He looked at me with sad eyes, but they weren't fooling me. When you get asked for money everyday it wears you down until you begin responding before seeing their need; their humanity. In my eyes a talibe just like every other talibe stood before me. This was not Jesus. He sat down next to me and continued to stare. My eyes wandered to his shoeless feet. They were calloused and ash colored from so much contact with the rough terrain. I imagined the pain he must feel as he walked across scalding black pavement or walked through trash piles littered with broken glass and old rusted metal. 

These thoughts aroused my dormant compassion and I asked the boy if he wanted a mango. He nodded his head and I reached in my bag to offer one. He took it but just held it carefully in his hands. 

"Where is your mom?" I asked.

"Guinea." he responded.

"And your dad?"

"Guinea."

This child was a talibe, separated from his family probably because they couldn't care for him. He spend his days walking the streets begging and his nights learning the Koran. The boy looked down at his feet, then at me.

"Can you buy me some shoes?" he asked. My compassion was still slowly awakening. It had remnants of sleep crusted on its eyes.

"No, I'm sorry I only have money for my bus ride home" I lied again. The guilt I felt was a sharp pinch that actually hurt. The 500CFA I had in my pocket for breakfast suddenly felt very heavy. How easily I could have skipped breakfast and spent the money on new sandals for this boy.

He looked at me without judgment, stood up and walked away, but not before turning his head back to say, "Ba beneen yoon" Until another time. I only hope that next time I will recognize Jesus in the eyes of that boy and freely give all that I can.