Strange things are happening

Haven't written for a few days because things have been a little hectic. I mentioned that my family here were all aware that I am with Alex now. It seemed as if everyone approved or at least accepted that fact. However, it's true that things are not always as they seem. On Thanksgiving Alex went with me to a friend's place for about 2 hours and as soon as we arrived home the mother began yelling at us both. I don't even know what she said because I was on the phone with my family in the US and just walked away. Apparently she was mad that we had been out together or out at all; I'm not sure.
The following day she barely looked at or spoke to me. That evening I came home to discover that the 12 year old monster in my house had gone through my cell phone and read all my text messages from Alex. He thought this was very amusing until Alex told him that he was going to spank him if he behaved that way again. As a result of all these things going on in the house I began talking to Alex about moving out. With not much time left here I thought I'd give it a few more days of consideration.
Saturday Alex and I left in the morning to go to Thies. This is a cute little town that actual reminded me a little of Ohio towns. It's about 2 hours away by car. It'd probably be a lot shorter drive if there were more than one road out of Dakar but oh well. To go to basically anywhere outside Dakar you must take a taxi to what is called the garage. However, this is not at all a garage as in our sense of the term. The first time we went there I kept wondering... but wait, where is the garage? Basically it's a giant field or dead and dying station wagons with signs for pretty much any destination in Senegal. You have to find your sign and then bargain with the drivers to go there. At the same time you're being swarmed by people selling absolutely everything you can imagine from Q-tips to bananas. Once we'd found a car we climbed into the back where Alex's knees were about in his chin and his head was hitting the ceiling on every bump like it was Honey, I Shrunk the Car or something. The rest of the car is filled with strangers who are usually very friendly. We sat a good twenty minutes because the driver couldn't make change for us. We had given him a 5 mille (equivalent to $10) and the trip was 3 mille. This is a constant problem in Senegal. Due to the fact that I have a bank card only and the machines give only 5 and 10 mille bills I often get incredibly dirty looks. On the way there I saw a goat get obliterated by a truck which was rather sad.
Anyway, we spent the morning meandering the cute little town of Thies. The most exciting thing to happen was when a large mob of children literally chased me down the street to shake my hand and say hello. If you're white you're a total celeb here. After the morning we headed to Alex's cousin's house. This was not a planned part of our excursion but we bumped into her while we were at the 'garage' and took her number.
We had lunch with her and then Alex went to buy some beer. I have only consumed alcohol a handful of times since I've been in this country but I find that each time I do I feel ill afterwards. I told him the last time I didn't want to drink anymore but of course it was in front of me so I drank about a beer and a half. Afterward we took a nap and I started to feel sick. We decided to start walking for a car to go back to Dakar.
As he bargained for the car I started to feel a cold sweat coming on and thought maybe my legs would give out from under me. Most of the venders were leaving me alone and staring at me as if they thought, "whoa, what's with the tubaab?"
Once we got into the car we had to sit to wait for the other seats to fill up. Luckily when I bought a bottle of water that morning the man at the boutique had given me two plastic bags, neither of which had any use for... that is until now. So, at this point I knew there was no turning back and that I was going to vomit in a plastic bag in front of a bunch of staring Senegalese. After that was over I tied the bag up and Alex paid some kid a quarter to take the bag to a trash can. Since the kid was obviously very poor and handed a mysterious bag by a white person I made Alex make it very clear that he should not open the bag. After we had started off I used the other bag to throw up in two more times and resolved to definitely not drink again for the rest of my time in Senegal.
After all that I wanted nothing more than to come home, take a shower, and go to sleep. Yet, as soon as I got out of the shower I was told to go talk to my mother. I decided that whatever this conversation was involving would be the decision maker on whether I would finish the program at this house or not.
The conversation began with me being disciplined for asking informing Alex of his nasty little brother's antics instead of them, which I chose to do knowing they would do nothing to him. I was right about that because she defended her son's actions by saying he was young though I countered with, but not too young to know that wasn't an appropriate thing to do. Then I was also scolded for being on the terrace with Alex the night before. Something which I was never technically told I wasn't allowed to do. In the past she has told me to go upstairs and take tea with my brothers or eat with them. I explained this to her and she said that now all that has changed. So, I began to leave the room when she yelled out, "You and Alex cannot leave each other's side!" So I asked why that was a problem for her. She came storming out of the living room faster than I've ever seen her do anything because in the past all she's ever done is lay around shouting out orders to her daughter/slave. She went on to say that I was going to leave Alex and I said, "yes, I have to go back to my own family. he knows that. that's between us; it's not your affair. he's not a child". She then said, "this isn't the US, that's not how it works in Senegal. And Alex is going to leave you because you're not nice!" At which point I said, "D'accord, je vais quitter la maison" (okay, I'm going to leave the house.) and she yelled "Quitte!" (LEAVE!) Therefore, Saturday night, to continue the not so fine day I'd had, I packed my things and walked down the street to Alex's friends' room. The next day when I came to take my things his mom yelled at him to come in the house as he helped me to carry my suitcases down. Afterward she sent her sick daughter/slave running after me down the street to ask me for the money for the soiree she had invited us to. I laughed and said, "Margo, I'm not going to the soiree."
So, it's very tough having a cross-cultural relationship. The longer I'm in it the more difficult it seems to become. I have always been such a free-spirit and now I have a 28 year old boyfriend who I am crazy over but who lives with his mom and can't stay the night with me and doesn't like to kiss in public. None of that is because he's weird or a loser or anything except that he's Senegalese. The more I find myself getting frustrated with all these cultural differences the less open-minded I feel. Maybe I'm just tired. When you live with Senegalese people, work with Senegalese people, go out with Senegalese people, when you stop thinking in your own language and the only place you can go to be American is the computer lab at your school it gets really draining. Some parts of me are ready to come home, despite that I'm going to sorely miss this place and I'm going to be sadder than maybe ever in my life that my first real love is across the Atlantic. But, I miss Christmas music, and a warm house in cold weather, and couches, coffee shops with slow quiet music and the murmor of voices, taking classes, and all my friends and family. Sometimes I wish it were just easy to go back and forth, like when I go from Athens to Cincy. Just a hop skip and a jump and I'm home again. If that were possible I could have a little taste of home every now and then and it would suffice. As it is I'm just about ready to go back to my own world and maybe if the fates allow I will make it back here again because it's definitely got a big piece of my heart.

Giving thanks

So today of course is Thanksgiving, though I'm pretty certain I would have forgotten that completely had it not been for everyone else pointing it out to me. Haven't really thought much about the holiday since I knew I'd be missing it and figured I didn't have a reason to dwell on it. Interestingly this is probably the most thankful Thanksgiving I've ever had despite that I hadn't planned on remembering it. So- I thought today I would remind everyone of some things that maybe they don't think to be grateful for because they're just so used to having them around.
-Reliable energy
-Public systems that work
-Reliable and safe water
-Reliable and good health care
-Laws which protect human rights
-Privacy
-Justice (though it's not always served)
-A diverse array of foods which are safe and always available
-If you're a woman just be thankful you're American because I guarantee your life is better than a great percentage of the women of the world
-Individuality (the right to drive your own future, the ability to choose a career, a spouse, and the right to be yourself)
-Education for everyone
-A relatively accountable government
And now for the less essential yet practical items:
-Washing machines
-Air conditioners
-Ovens and stoves
-Free time
-A comfortable bed to sleep in every night
-Rain every once in a while
-Traffic laws
-Being born in a country that tons of people can only dream of ever even stepping foot in

I could go on with this list but I figure you get the point. However, at the same time, there are an awful lot of amazing things in Senegal that you just won't ever find in the US which is a shame but I guess somehow it evens out.

I know I haven't written lately so I'll give a quick update. Life is basically as usual here except that it's just about over so at times it's a little sad. Alex's/ my whole family now knows that we're together. They ask us if we're getting married because most of the time if you date someone in Senegal that is the intention. Don't worry, I'm not. I'm pretty certain still that they don't really like me but I can't bring myself to care too much. Though the other day Alex's mom did invite us to a soiree on one of my last nights here. I said that it was nice but Alex thinks it's silly. I guess now I have to go look like a white fool and dance in front of all his family and their friends.
Last Sunday Alex and I went to a party for his church. They're Catholic so they know how to get their party on. Afterward I had to pee so I told Alex I was going to do like the men and go on the side of the road. He couldn't believe I would do that until after I had.
The other day I saw a kid caught in the door of a bus while it drove down the street with everyone pounding on it to stop. This isn't that uncommon because the buses are overflowing all the time. A few days before that I saw a guy on a motorcycle get side-swiped by an Ndiagne Ndiaye who didn't stop when everyone pounded on it. This is why I was fairly certain when I first got here that I was going to die in the street. Looking back it occurs to me what terrible culture shock I had for the very first time. I had even imagined the terrible phone call to my mom to inform her that I had been run over by a Kaar Rapide.
Yesterday at work I saw a guy herding his sheep down the road which made me say, "wow, things are really different here" and also made me remember the time at the market when I was literally two seconds from being stampeded by a herd of them.
Apparently I was exposed to Tuberculosis yesterday I found out today. A woman came in coughing but said she had asthma because a lot of people hide the disease. Anyway, I'm feeling a little like a hypochrondriac today because my throat is a little bit sore and I found out that I was exposed to an airborne deadly illness but I'm certain I'm just being absurd. In actuality you have to have prolonged exposure to contract it so I don't think my five minutes with the woman will kill me.
I'm almost finished in Family Planning- tomorrow is my last day. I'm kinda going to miss looking at boobs and vaginas all day. Though, I guess I'll be in maternity next so there will probably be no shortage of that. At least they haven't expected me to actually perform any gyno exams yet.
But! Today I gave my first injection at the hospital. I'm practically a doctor now or somethin'! Who knew with all that queasiness that could ever come to pass?! I'm pretty stinking proud of myself really.

Tick-tock, tick-tock

It's so hard to believe that today is November 17 and I'm leaving Senegal in exactly one month. I'm not really looking forward to it. In all my travels I've never become more attached to a place than here. I've never felt so changed by an experience abroad. I am so calm and content here. Sure, there are things I miss and things that sometimes drive me wild but at the same time- this place has such character. In the US everything is like it's under Big Brother. Here, people are free. You hardly ever see policemen, there aren't speed limits (or traffic laws for that matter), there aren't rules about how to raise children or about how to live your life. People don't have much but they're happy. They have less to give but they give more. There's hardly any crime, there's never been a coup d'etat or a civil war or anything truly violent. People call their neighbors aunts and uncles and cousins. It's like they don't even know the difference.
There is no such thing is the concept of imposition. If you walk by people eating the automatic first thing they say to you is "kaye, lekk" (come eat). This includes absolute strangers. If someone buys a piece of bread or a soda they don't then sit and eat or drink it themselves, they divide it equally among everyone present.
People here help me cross the street. If I get cheated out of money they help me get it back. They ask about all your friends who they've only met one time or sometimes never at all. They call you sister, daughter, suma xarit (my friend). Everyday I get talked to by strangers who want to know where I'm from and how I like Senegal. Sometimes they want to say also that they're in love with you but they're usually not mal-intentioned. You can't blame them for wanting a different life.
Everything here has its ups with its downs. This week I've started working in Family Planning. There're a lot of personnel in the room so I basically just treat it as a research project. I suppose I could do some gyno exams if I asked to but my heart's not going to be broken if I don't get to look into any vaginas. So I've seen a lot of really sad things in the past four days. A lot of women who haven't even earned the right to be called women yet except that they're mothers. They're kids with kids. Girls who haven't even had time to love themselves yet and are now toting around 1 or more children. I saw a 16 year old in her fourth pregnancy. You do the math. There's also always the question "how many kids do you have?" followed by "how many kids deceased?" and it's not uncommon at all for women to have lost at least 1 child.
Then there's the talibe. These are boys that come to Dakar to go to Koranic school; something considered obligatory in Islam. The catch is that most Muslims know that a Koranic education is useless in life and send their kids to an actual school. The exception to this is people who have too many children and can't afford the burden. These families send their kids to the schools to live with marabouts (almost the equivalent of a Catholic priest except it's obtained divinely). The kids are essentially orphaned and spend most of their time begging in the streets for the marabout. If they don't get the amount of money they're required to each day they are beaten. It's incredibly sad and a huge problem because you see the boys anywhere you go. You give and give and you can't do otherwise because you know that they without a doubt are going to use that quarter a lot better than you would've. But, there're always more grungy hands than there are coins in your pocket and you still feel horribly guilty to walk away with any amount of money knowing the need for them is so much greater than it is for you.

There are so many problems here- like Alex, for instance. Alex has a job he goes to five days a week. He fixes computers. He's 28. He's worked there since April getting up every morning at 6 for no pay. This is incredibly common here. Before you can make money you have to put in your time as an apprentice, an intern. It's supposed to be a learning period but Alex used to have his own business. He's knows how to do things that other people at his work don't. People are taken advantage of. They live with their parents until they're married because they have no other choice. Young people have no place to work.
Anyway, I have to go meet a friend and I could go on about the problems here forever. I'll save it for next time.

Let's face it- I'm in love

Of course when my parents read this blog entry I'm going to get some sort of e-mail about how I've lost my mind. Three months ago if someone had told me I'd feel like this I would've told them they'd lost theirs. I can understand the notion.
Friday I wanted to pick up my package at the post office so Alex said he thought he should go with me because it might be hard to find. He called the post office for me in advance and then I went downtown to his work to meet him. We had lunch together and then went to the post office. It was Friday so they were on an hour long break for prayer, plus we weren't at the right post anyway. So, we went to the phone store so I could try and get my phone minutes at a reduced price. The guy said to come back in the morning. Then we went to the other post office and waited until the break had ended.
At 3 we were let into the post but made to sit and wait because after the break the employees apparently had to eat. Thus, we sat another 30 minutes and then were led into an office and then followed finger pointing in all different directions for an hour or so. Finally, after an hour and a half at the second post office- I had my box. The whole time he handled everything for me and never got frustrated with anyone.
After that we went to Francois' until about 8 and then did our usual thing of me going home, him waiting 30 minutes and then coming in after me. Since his parents don't know about us everything is like this. I've become a good liar- though I never wanted to be. I don't like lying and I always feel like they know I am even though they really don't. I figure that all is fair in love and war and with his parents I feel that it's both.
Yesterday I got up at 7:30 to meet him in our usual meeting spot in the park near my school. He took me for some cafe touba because he knows how much I love it. After that we headed downtown to deal with my phone. Then he came with me to Ouakam for the baptism. We missed most of the traditional stuff so I was a little sad about that but I got to hold the baby for a few minutes and eat some good food. After that he decided that he wanted to get a new outfit so we went to a market and he made me pick out everything for him. Then he bought us each a bag of ice cream in honor of my friend Sara who is now in the village but who ate four of them at a soccer game one night and made us crack up laughing.
After that we went to Francois' and then to my favorite restaurant Chez Zeyna. Then back to Francois' a few more hours before heading to a karate competition. Then I discovered that my boyfriend can do all these amazing things like flip over and over again and probably kick a lot of ass because he's a brown belt. On the way there a little boy stood at the window of our taxi and Alex reached into his pocket and gave him a coin. I know he doesn't have a lot to give- he often does jobs for only $4. After that another kid came to the window and stood for a long time. Alex didn't do anything for a while but then I saw that he couldn't take it anymore and he reached into his pocket and gave away another coin. This is why I'm crazy over this boy.
He respects me like no man ever has. He's gourgous. He's smart. He works so hard. He does all that he can for me when he has so little. He thinks of me in everything. He has a big heart and we can be silly together. He speaks two languages and is learning English just for me. And the coolest thing is- he's never even heard of McDonald's. I cannot leave Senegal in a month and never see Alex again. I can't.

Babies, babies, babies

Oh, yesterday was kind of sad. I spent several hours at another student's internship at the orphanage. I'm not sure what I expected to feel there but maybe I just hadn't put enough thought into it. Maybe I was just thinking orphanage= loads of kids which I love which means it'll be fun! I mean, I knew on a certain level it was going to be sad but I don't think I realized just how heavy it would really be.
We arrived at 2:30 and put on our smocks. There were about 15 women, staff and volunteers. Mostly Senegalese but also an American guy, a French woman, and of course- us. It was feeding time when we arrived so we went to Sandy's room- Room 5 and grabbed some babies and started feeding. After we returned them to their room and began changing them.
There are five rooms in the orphanage- at least on the floor with the babies. Each room has 10 or 11 cribs. I'd say that all or almost all of the babies were under the age of 1 year. The babies have names but are mostly known by their numbers. Their clothing, beds, and bottles all correspond to their numbers. There must be at least 45 babies there.
The first thing I noticed when I held my first infant there was that she didn't smell like a baby. She didn't smell like baby powder and soap and fresh skin. She smelt like sour milk; like a baby who couldn't possibly be getting all the attention she deserves or needs. It's not anyone's fault. Most of the babies living there haven't been abandoned. Most of them had mothers who passed away during childbirth or shortly after. I wonder if they ever imagined that the child they loved for nine months in their womb was going to live its infancy being a number.
The women working there are sweet and the babies are all held but with 40 how can they ever be held enough? They're well taken care of, with vitamins and treatments, mosquito nets. In fact, some of them might be healthier than if they had stayed with their own families. Yet, they aren't loved uniquely. They aren't individuals. They are someone's job. They are babies in waiting for love.
Some of them are as young as two weeks. They cry and cry- they want to be held. You can't hold them all and it's so heartbreaking because how do you choose? They all deserve it equally. In the "playroom", as they all got layed out on mats together, mostly just to lay there and sleep or wait to be picked up for a little bit, I had such a mental conflict.
I'd pick up one who was crying and then another would start and I would want to pick that one up. I would put down the one I was holding and then they would cry and then a lot of babies would be crying at the same time. I couldn't stand it. There just weren't enough arms. A baby should know a face. It should be familiar with at least one person in it's life. It shouldn't be so alone. Oh, I dreamt about the orphanage last night, and I couldn't stop seeing all their little eyes staring at me and hearing their cries as you just had to finally resort to walking away.
I was exhausted when I left there at 6:30. Physically and mentally drained like a lifeless entity. I was envious at first of her internship there but I think that maybe I couldn't handle 25 hours a week working there. I think it would be too hard for me. I think I would want to adopt a baby. So, I'm going to spend as much time volunteering there as I can before I leave. I really loved it but I hate that it exists.

Wounds make my heart go pitter-patter

Alas, another scorcher in Senegal, and once again there is the ever present element of surprise. I went to work today to discover that my work is on strike. No one really mentioned this to me yesterday. I suppose they figured it's not important to mention a strike to a non-paid employee. Oh well, I'm happy to have the morning off.
This afternoon I'm going to a friend's internship at the orphanage. It should be very interesting and probably pretty depressing.
After a week and a half at the health clinic I'm feeling pretty iron-gutted. Yesterday I cleaned lots of wounds and I started to get really into it. I am beginning to get excited about the nasty stuff that comes in. I think I'm beginning to like medicine. It's too bad that I would only ever qualify to work in it in the third world.
Tuesday was a vaccination day and I can not even begin to tell you the number of women who were there with their babies to be vaccinated. Each time I left the room I was stunned at the amount of people there waiting. The women got a total kick out of me attempting to call their names. There was one woman who helped me all day by repeating everyone's name correctly for me. I was so shocked when I called a name and she herself stood up. I had almost forgotten to notice that she had been waiting forever.
On my way here this morning I was terribly frustrated when my newly purchased shoes broke for the second time. They broke last weekend but I fixed them with a stapler. I was actually quite proud of my resourcefulness. I knew that I probably shouldn't wear the damn things anymore since I'm not actually Macguiver and I was probably pushing my luck. Which was correct because I ended up walking halfway here barefoot. Yet, I stopped for my usual cafe Touba from my pal around the corner and a woman there took the shoes out of my hand, called a guy over and in ten minutes my shoe was good as new. It cost a quarter. I love Senegal.
Speaking of love... it's a fact, I'm absolutely head-over-heels for Alex. Everyday that inches closer to the day I'm leaving I get sadder and sadder about it. I've become almost determined to find a way to see him again.
I'm such a different person here it's wild. I worry that I will go home and change again. I'm afraid I will forget all this and who I am here and I really hope not because I certainly like this me a lot. I've calmed down so much. I don't party here and I don't think about it. I'm happy in a whole different way than ever before. I can't ever be the same after being here, I know that's impossible.
I can't believe in five weeks I'm returning home. It's going to feel so foreign and crazy. I'm very excited to see my family and all my friends. I can't wait to eat Skyline, and to use my down comforter, and to hold a warm mug of hot chocolate and sleep in a big comfortable bed. I can't wait to spend a day watching Grey's nonstop. I wanna eat tomato soup and grilled cheese and see my breath when I stand outside. I'm excited to drive Julie and see Athens again. Yet, I know that all of that is still there for me to do. On the other hand I might leave here never to return again. Never to see Alex, never to experience the Teranga again, never to speak Wolof. I might never drink Bisap again, or see another baobab tree, or drink cafe Touba. I might not ever see all the wonderful people I've become friends with again. That thought frightens and saddens me a lot. The solemnity of leaving here perhaps forever far outweighs the excitement of going home. I hate goodbye, especially since I've met someone I hate leaving for even five minutes.

There is no such thing as an emergency in Senegal

So, I will never be able to look at sand the same way again. I'm beginning to think there's just no way to stop the practically inevitable hatred of it I'm going to have after this trip. Sand. Yes, I used to think of it as beachy and pleasant but now, now it's just everywhere. It's in my shoes everywhere I go, it's on my legs all day long, I sink in it as I walk down the street. It's enough to drive a person absolutely haywire. Sand is a perfect example of how there are no emergencies in Senegal. Who's brilliant idea was it to make sidewalks out of sand?! Honestly! It's like no one's in a hurry to get anywhere, the sand is strategically placed there just to slow you down so you don't get anywhere TOO fast.
But really, I don't think they've ever had an emergency here of any kind. No one is ever concerned about much of anything. That is except when it comes to soccer. My friend Sara was living across from the stadium until the internships started last week. One day a couple weeks ago a flaming tear gas bomb came flying into their courtyard. Oops.
Ambulances; I haven't really figured out what they're for. It takes them forever to get through to anywhere and at my hospital no one sick or injured ever comes out of one. People here treat everything so casually. Even the kids are calmer and less whiny. I'm not making this up. I know if I were in the US during those vaccinations last week I'd of completely lost my mind from all the screaming but here half the kids didn't even make a sound.
So, my internship. It's interesting. To get there I get to use public transportation now. It's actually sort of fun despite the fact that I'm sure no one in Senegal would say that. To get to the hospital I walk about 15 minutes and then take one of these white van/bus things called an Ndiagne Ndiaye. They stuff as many people as possible into the things so until it starts to move I sometimes think I might suffocate. It costs a quarter to get to work and a quarter to get home. That's actually pretty steep here. I could buy a shit ton of peanuts with that amount of money. Anyway, you just sit there until it's time to get off and then you stand up or hiss or tap on something and they let you off. If you're white you just stand up because everybody notices that.
Last week was quite different from my actual role at the hospital as it turns out. Today I was in with the pediatric nurse who I can't really figure out. There's a good chance that she hates me, or hates her job, or hates her life, or hates whites, or hates Americans... I don't know but her attitude is a bit like some kinda hater. She usually speaks to me in Wolof despite that she obviously speaks pristine French. Then she gets mad at me and looks at me like I'm stupid when I don't make any response. At home this would probably make me mad or make me cry or something but I think I'm just tougher now. She doesn't phase me at all. And actually, when she talks to me in French she's pretty nice to me. Thus, I don't get it. Today I think she wanted to get rid of me but everyone else said she had to put up with me.
So, today was a fun and interesting day. In the morning I saw lots of newborn babies. One of which was placed into my arms for a few minutes. I wasn't sure why but there are a lot of unknowns here so I decided to just enjoy the little gal. A few minutes later Dr. Evil came in and pierced the baby's ears with a needle and what seemed to be cord of some kind. That really took the fun out of holding the infant. Anyway, I think at some point I might be made to pierce ears of newborns too. Can't really decide how I feel about that.
Later a kid came in with some gauze around his knee and she handed me some gloves and a tray of different kinds of scissors and said something like "do it". I having utterly no idea what exactly it was. Thus, I cut off the bandage to find a rather large hunk of skin missing off this boy's knee all the way down to the bone. After that I didn't know what to do so I stood there trying not to be sick while she showed me how to clean it and then I wrapped it with new gauze. After that I stuck thermometers in some baby butts. That was entertaining.I have a feeling the nurse has not been briefed on the fact that I have utterly NO experience in medicine. She's probably beginning to figure this out on her own.
Then came the favorite of the day- an abscess. Still not really sure what this is but the very thought of it still makes me kinda wanna hurl. This boy came in barely able to walk and when she unwrapped his leg there was a very long stream of what I assume was puss which shot in a projectile like manner out of this hole going through his leg. Mmm... was that appetizing. I oughta have an iron stomach after this.
So, tonight I'm getting ready to go buy fabric for an outfit for a baptism Saturday. Last week a baby was born there and then abandoned by his mother so the doctor give the baby the nurse who happen's to be Ousene's Aunt. Therefore, I get to go to my first baby naming ceremony! This is quite thrilling.
In other news, Alex has recovered from malaria and I am happy. Last night was my neighborhood's final soccer game and they lost. There was no celebration which was sad. Other than that, I'm just praying that nothing more disgusting happens at the hospital tomorrow because it will be really embarrassing to vomit or pass out in front of Dr. Evil.

No end to surprises

Dammit, this is the third time I've started this frigging blog entry and if this time doesn't work I'm giving up! Annnyway, life is good. Finished my first week at my internship today. I'm working at a health clinic which I think I'm really going to enjoy. So far I work with all women and though I can't understand anything they're saying pretty much all of the time it's still highly amusing. This week was a vaccination week so I spent many hours saying kaye, am (come; eat) to little kids before dripping Vitamin A down their throats and shoving chewable tablets in their mouths. After that I usually listen to them scream about their shot for a few minutes. I know I don't sound thrilled but actually I enjoy it.
The adventure of going to my internship was quite interesting. Monday we went in groups, each with two faculty members to our different work sites. We didn't get to my clinic until after the doctors had already left so they just instructed me to come to the research center in the morning and someone (I thought our director) was going to come with me to the clinic. So, I came Tuesday and as it turned out a kid named Ousene who works in the research center library was taking me. His aunt works at the clinic (and is super nice).
So, Ousene and I went in a cab to Ouakam, the town about 20 or 30 minutes from Dakar where my clinic is. Sidenote for members of the listening audience such as my parents, no lectures or worries regarding the following passage.
So, Ousene and I descended the taxi and started to walk in the direction that I knew was not the hospital. I was like, "uhhh...." and then he explained that he was taking me to meet a friend before I started. So, we chatted with some folk in this French schoolyard and then went into this vacant building and up some stairs past a bunch of sleeping people. Then he introduced me to a guy and handed me a joint. So, this made me laugh because I have not seen pot since being in Senegal and here all the sudden when I'm not even looking someone just hands it to me. Sooo, I was thinking... this probably isn't such a good thing to be doing before my first day at my internship at the HOSPITAL but what the heck. Sooo, we smoked a little and then said bye to the neighborhood and then I started.
After work Ousene came to pick me up and took me back to the deserted building, which I then found out was a future library for the school (it's really common to found people crashing in construction sites in Senegal). So, we smoked some more and hung out with his friend and Ousene explained to me about all the marabouts and I laughed hysterically because he's hilarious. Then we started to head out but he asked me if I wanted to go to his music shop first and since I'd heard him say about 20 times that day, "I'm very busy, I have my OWN shop music", I felt that I should probably go.
The whole time I was there I wished Ben was with me. I felt like I was on the set of High Fidelity. The music shop was great and so is Ouakam.