By lrich522
This past week all 40 CIEE students traveled across every region of Senegal to complete a mandatory part of the program: the rural visit. We had heard a couple of horror stories (real or not I’ll never know) about rural visits from semesters past; students getting lost without being able to speak the local language, people losing all of their money, and there was even the story of a girl getting bit by some mysterious bug and going blind for a bit (I actually met this girl and she can in fact see again) .
The anticipation was intense, and only made worse by the fact that we would be traveling independently of our program staff/host families. A few days before we left, we were charged with the task of ranking our top three locations that we wanted to visit while taking into account whether or not we wanted to stay with a peace corps volunteer, their specific sector within the peace corps, travel distance, and whether or not we wanted to travel with another CIEE student.
I am an extremely indecisive person, and normally when given a few options I ALWAYS pick the wrong one. So I decided to take the list of places and google each of them. In doing so, I was the very last person to turn in my ranked villages and ended up being assigned to one that was not where I had hoped to go and not in the sector that I had hoped to observe. I need to be less indecisive. That being said, I was still placed with peace corps like I had hoped, and I was partnered with another student who is absolutely marvelous. (Shout out to Sarah for always laughing, for sharing her “meta moments”, and for almost passing out on the bush car then sticking through the rest of the trip like a champ). In hindsight, I am extremely grateful for the week I had, the people I met, and the honest and thought provoking insight I received from my Peace Corps volunteer host, Taryn.
On Monday, with travel instructions and duffle bag in hand, I set out to take a taxi from my home to the gare. Sarah and I were meeting there that morning so that we could take the sept-place together to Linguère, which is the town closest to the village we stayed in. Luckily we got there within minutes of each other because right when I stepped out of the cab there were a bunch of men asking me where I was going and offering to lead me there.
I saw Sarah and beelined for the car she had found. A sept-place (seven seats) is really just an old station wagon-esque vehicle that has room for 7 people plus the driver. I guess our timing wasn’t all too perfect because we ended up in the very back bench of the car with a very sweaty woman who spoke no French, and wasn’t exactly down to share the seat. If sitting up straight, my head hit the ceiling; if slouched, my knees dug into the seat in front of me. We spent the next hour waiting for a seventh person to come along, and then we spent the next six hours travelling. Luckily, we befriended the one woman in the car who spoke French because we had no clue how to ask to stop for a bathroom break in Wolof. Only towards the very end of the journey did we realize that the driver spoke English. Classic.
We arrived in Linguère, where we met Taryn who then brought us from the sept-place to the Peace Corps regional house. We met a few other volunteers, bought some tasty chicken sandwiches from a lady on the road, and then slept on the roof. The next day, we hung out till the afternoon then made our way to the area where people wait for their respective bush cars. Since ours was supposed to depart around 3, we ended up waiting until 4 because of what people call “Senegal time”. This is the only way into the “bush” and it goes in just once a day. I had no clue what a bush car would be, and it turns out it’s just the bed of a pick up truck with a bunch of pieces of wood going across the back for people to sit on. That was certainly a new experience. It took about an hour and a half, stopped in multiple villages, and ended in ours, which is called Thiel (chill). Also, the secret to a great tan? Ride in the bush car and get coated in dirt/sand/dust. No one will know the difference. (patent pending)
Taryn had warned us that our arrival would attract a solid amount of attention, and considering how difficult it is to get to the village they don’t often have visitors. My first experience in her family’s compound was seeing her little host brother, who was maybe 1 and a half years old, scream and cry at the sight of us. I knew I’d get some weird looks… didn’t quite anticipate scaring children. The next morning, we went to the giant market that comes to the village each week and I quickly realized that our stay would largely consist of people calling Taryn over so that they could introduce themselves.
It was SO much hotter than in Dakar, so really all we could do was meet people and talk about how hot it was. That night we met some of the teachers from the local middle school, who all spoke French. It was nice to finally be able to understand a conversation beyond salutations, and we actually ended up having a full-blown debate that night about the meaning of individual liberties in Senegal vs. the US. It was amazing to so strongly disagree with a point of view that I would have never before considered, which allowed me to question my own background as well as my reasons for thinking the way I do. We headed back to the hut where we laid down outside and stared at the sky until we could no longer stay awake. I have never seen so many stars in my life, which I guess could be considered a perk of not having electricity.
The next morning, we woke up and headed to the local middle school to observe a class. It was about a twenty-minute walk for us, but is much longer for certain students depending on where they are coming from. The teachers were extremely happy to have us there, but at times made comments about how they looked forward to hearing our advice since we “are rich and they are poor”. Sometimes it appeared they overvalued our intellectual worth/capabilities only because we were American, and other times it just seemed like they valued the idea of a new cultural exchange. Sarah pointed out that we had a lot to learn from them, and that we were not there nor qualified to give insight.
I’m finding between my professors and those I met in the village, people regard America(ns) very highly (too highly???). The teachers had us introduce ourselves to each class, and in the first one the kids giggled the entire time. Only at the end of our introduction did the teacher tell us that they couldn’t understand our accents and had no clue what we were trying to say. That was a bit embarrassing. During our swift departure my skirt got caught on the door, and it basically stayed there while I kept walking. In my attempts to call Sarah to unhook it, I accidentally caught the attention of all of the kids in the class who then started cracking up at the sight of my not quite full moon (I’d say more of a waning gibbous). So that was extremely embarrassing, and also why I never wanted to go back to middle school. Afterwards we observed a French class, which was very different from the teaching style in America.
That evening we went to see a friend of Taryn’s who had lived in the US for 7 years. We sat under a big shady baobab tree and drank tea as the sun went down. Never did I think I’d be discussing American politics with a Trump supporting Marabout in rural Senegal. We returned to the compound and ate dinner while talking with the teachers from earlier that day about aliens, as well as Americans’ fascination with life beyond Earth. Afterwards, Taryn noted that she would never be able to have a conversation like that in Wolof, not because of a lack of ability, but because the language itself is not really conducive to conversations like that.
This led us to consider the idea that your language plays a role in how you think as well as what you think about. This discussion only further complicated my thoughts on the fact that children here are not taught in their native tongue, which is the language they speak at home, but instead in the language of their former colonizer (which on the other hand can also be considered a world language that is beneficial to know). I’m still not quite sure what to make of this, and it is something I would like to discuss further at my education based internship.
We left in the bush car the next morning with beignets in hand as the sun was coming up. Then, we spent another night at the regional house in Linguère and left the next morning in our sept-place back to Dakar. Overall, I am extremely grateful that I was assigned the village of Thiel. I learned a lot from the residents about their advancing development, the problems they currently face, and their prospects for the future.
Personally, I also learned a lot from Taryn about her experience in the Peace Corps. Since she is finishing her service in a few months, she was quite frank with us when detailing her experiences. Taryn also served as a model exemplifying strength and confidence during difficult times, and I hope to draw inspiration from her in the next coming months as I continue to make my way through Senegal. This rural visit served as an important opportunity to better understand Senegalese life and culture beyond Dakar, and my only regret is that I didn’t get to spend more time with the wonderful people in Thiel.