Holy cow, it's almost July

I woke up this morning with a sore throat, and really just didn’t feel motivated to do anything. Max knocked on my door, as he usually does, after he rolled out of bed. His room is pretty close to mine and he wakes up when he hears my creaking door open at 7:15 and then creak back shut, as I leave to use the bathroom in the back yard. We usually exchange quick greetings in French because he’s used to speaking that with me, but this morning he used Wolof to tell me he was about to get dressed and that he’d be right back. Our shower is indoors and it’s the only thing in a small, tiled room that connects to the downstairs foyer. I took a quick shower, not washing my hair, because it is in high demand in the morning, especially around 8.

A couple of times I’ve gotten up at 7 to run along the beach with my 24 year-old brother Ouzin. I was telling Jeff a couple days ago that living with Ouzin is like having Bill Cosby in your house. He is extremely modest but very silly. And he goes well out of his way to make me laugh and laugh at my bad jokes too. He runs most days before it gets hot out and I’ve enjoyed joining him. The first time was really awkward for me. I hadn’t worn shorts in public yet, and wasn’t sure it was a good idea, since most women are so elegantly dressed in public. To get to the beach, we have to run through town, dodge sleepy taxi drivers, horse drawn buggies hauling butane bottles to stores, children running out to get the bread for breakfast, etc…I felt so completely alien! I felt everyone’s eyes on me. I asked Ouzin if it was socially OK for me to be sweaty and in sporty clothes in public and he insisted it was. What’s more, I’m running in Tevas since I didn’t bring sneakers, and although it’s been totally working fine for me, the fact that I’m not wearing training shoes like all the other sporty people just draws more attention to me. Well, by my second time running, I was used to having deep stares come my way, understanding a little more that it’s really just that people are curious and don’t mean to be impolite; it’s not impolite here to stare! What’s more impolite is to ignore others. We get to the beach after running through some rubble at the far end of town and pass the fishing boats that have been there for eons (Yoff is an ancient fishing village which is slowly being swallowed by the suburbs of Dakar) and we get to the magnificent beach. We run for 10 minutes which is plenty for me. Running in the sand is hard work. I feel great when I get back and usually everyone gives up their place in line for the shower, knowing I should be at CRESP by 9. I am grateful.

Max comes in my room with a pot of boiled water and two half-baguettes, and I pull the tub of margarine and pot of sugar cubes out of my cupboard. Everyone keeps their own mug and small spoon for breakfast in their rooms. We sit on my blue carpeted floor and he puts the Lipton tea bags in the mugs and pours the water. I unwrap the bread and get the butter ready. He carefully wrings out each tea bag, it’s an art really, by wrapping the bag with its own string and pulling it taught in several places. He does this everyday, so carefully! We’ve joked a few times that we are like an old married couple, sharing a quiet breakfast together each day. He insists that it’s the little things in life that make him happy, and he hopes to continue this dance with his future wife someday, pouring her tea, cutting her bread, etc… I guess I’m good practice for him, and I love it!

CRESP is a 15 minute slow walk down the auto route, in the hot sun. Max works for CRESP too as a helpful hand, running errands and mailing packages. My brothers Ouzin and Coday also work there behind the front desk at the cyber café. My host dad works upstairs as a co-director. The unemployment rate is around 70 percent in Senegal. Families are large, and parents do not always prepare nor encourage their kids to work. Kids will often live at home till they’re 35, just sharing floor space / bed space with a brother, eating meals and hanging out with the family, having few other expenses. Everything else is shared! So, it’s good for this family that so many of the kids are working, even though society sure isn’t pushing them to do so.

My younger sister Mantou is 18 but she’s tall and sophisticated and hysterical. She’s in charge of doing a lot of the cooking in the house and the laundry on Saturdays, chores that the boys are not given, which sometimes reminds me that it is very much a stratified society in terms not only of economics and race but also sex. My host family is loving and welcoming and wonderful, and there are deeply rooted traditions, like the women handling almost everything menial, which aren’t questioned.

Mantou, Aisha, Anne, Libas and I went to the beach last weekend and had a good time. She’s constantly teaching me new Wolof words and is patient when I stare at her blankly, not knowing what she’s just garbled in Wolof.

Otherwise, this week has been pretty relaxing; I’ve had a couple meetings with the local tech university, Ecole Supérieure Polytechnique and their solar energy department, and with Marian’s lead, we have discussed with them the possibility of bringing on one of their master’s students to work on the solar oven energy audit, so that I would not have to work alone on collecting more data in Mékhé and analysing it later. They’re going to put out a job offer today and hopefully we’ll reel someone in.

In the meantime, we’ve come up with a tentative methodology for what data we’ll collect from about 50 oven-owning families. We’ll use the help of trained women in the village to collect the data, making the study very much a part of their own project and incorporating their expertise and responsibility. It will probably be another couple of weeks before the next stay in Méhké, giving us time to plan.

I’m borrowing Julia’s digital camera for the next few days (thanks Julia) and I’m going to take pictures of everything I see. Enough of this not having a digital camera crap! Hopefully you’ll soon see Yoff with your own eyes, En Sha Yallah (God willing!).

Everyone’s really nice here and supportive of my slow learning curve with Wolof, but at times I get frustrated, feeling like I’m being constantly tested, wishing that they would just stick to French with me. I do my best to smile and politely ask them to repeat, making care to try and learn the expression for the next time we meet. Because oh man, if you don’t make the effort, you really get it! The past few days I’ve been resting my brain, quietly resorting to my room to read in the evenings, not seeking out others. I think I’ve needed it, to get away from the incessant tests all around me, and I’ve certainly taken Anne up on some good cathartic whining sessions. Overall, I feel so much better when I’m honest about my state and what’s going on. I can’t be happy here all the time and I need time to myself. Done and done.

Team Mékhé

The troops- from the left:
Ngournay (our fearless leader and Mékhé native), Fatou, Khadi and Anne.
This is a typical alley in a village, where the façades of houses are cared for minimally, whereas the insides can be very nice and usually very well kept. 

Taking measurements with a family

Fatou is weighing the tomatos that will go into a meal. This family had many children who were very curious about our experiment. Khadi is watching from the bottom right; I am on the left. 

Friendly Family

This woman was very helpful with a wood-cooking experiment. This is a traditional dress for women in Senegal. Not everyone wears the dress and scarf, especially as you move our of rural areas, but it is considered elegant and important for women to look their best when in public. Even though a family may be poor, they take great care to dress beautifully and with bright fabrics. Meals are served outside on the ground, on a mat, like this. The family eats from a large, central bowl. 

Fatou and Modou

Baby Modou and Fatou! He loves when she visits Mékhé. 

'Everyone speaks football'

...is Coca-Cola's World Cup advertising slogan. Indeed, my Wolof communication was limited to 'it's certainly hot out' and 'how's your morning?' and 'I'm full, thanks!' so kicking a ball was helpful to demonstrate that I was slightly more than an observant bump on a log. But boy, it was hot out and my showing-off was limited to a couple minutes. 

Charred wood cooking family

Another test family; anne is against the wall; Fatou has her back to us. 

Helpful Families

This is one of our test families. The woman in the blue with the baby really took to our experiment, weighing the wood herself and always punctual having the necessary food items ready when we came by to take measurements. Hers was one of two wood-fire cooking families. We found over the three days that cooking time with wood varies little across the families (with our sample size of two, we should expand our pool before we make generalizations!) 

Gooo team CRESP!

Anne, Khadi and Fatou strike a pose in the shade of a tree in Mékhé. What a bunch of good sports- although they aren't really involved in the solar oven project here, Anne and Khadi came along for the 3 days to help out and get a sense for life in the village, perhaps to inspire their own new project. Thanks for the pictures Anne! 

Fatou Lo making it happen

Fatou Lo is the wonderful Yoff native who works with us, the interns, at CRESP. We benefitted greatly from her close relationship with the women of Mékhé and her sense of humor throughout all of the adventures of being in a small village. Here she is measuring the water needed to cook bouillie de riz, a rice-pudding type dish. This is Ngournay's house, where Khadi and I stayed all three nights. 

Mékhé by night

So we just got back from three full days in a little remote village a few hours drive from Dakar – Mékhé! Mékhé is special because it is one of the more active ecovillages in Senegal. It has a very vocal, dynamic female population who take it upon themselves to improve their situation.

The goal of the project was to cook traditional meals and note the quantities of ingredients, quantities of fuel used, and time of cooking, to understand how much time and fuel can be saved with the solar oven. Three friends and coworkers came as well – Fatou Lo, our wonderful and glamorous CRESP translator and facilitator who is full of life and spunk, Khadi, a Senegalese native turned New-Yorker who is spending the summer here as well, and Anne, the newest ESW addition to CRESP, who has yet to chose a project to work on. We enjoyed her company during the trip and hope she wasn’t too bored!

On Wednesday, June 21, we got to Mékhé around 2pm after an adventure filled trip by rented, beat up car. Our driver got pulled over at a check point, and was forced to pay a small bribe. Turns out our driver had an expired paper, which isn’t usually a big deal, but because he had two white people in the car, the cop knew he could get money. I was astounded because the cop seemed so professional! Turns out this happens all the time. Fatou pulled out the equivalent of a dollar and we were able to roll off.

We pulled up to Ngournay’s house and said our hellos, then unloaded our equipment and baggage into the house. She is one of the dominant women here – and she insisted that we, the foreigners, stay with her rather than at another house. She has a rival in the village, who later stormed over to her house, demanding that we stay with her. We compromised by dividing ourselves into two groups for sleeping.

Ngournay’s family has a solar oven that is used not only for cooking family food but also for cooking meat for sandwiches to sell. Clearly, her family makes a profit and they are very happy to have an oven.

Using funds from the Global Ecovillage Network, Mékhé has installed 50 solar ovens in homes in the Ndiop quarter of the village, and almost all have been successes (the women actually cook with them at least a few times a week). They also have a micro credit system that I know little about. The goal of that is to pool money and let a small number of women start their businesses with it and repay it later

Each oven was sold to the women for 15,000 Fcfa, or around 30 US dollars. They have the choice of paying all up front or to pay 1,000 Fcfa per month for 15 months. Because the cost to produce these ovens was funded by the Fund de l’Environnement Mondiale (FEM), the cost of the oven to the women goes directly into a bank account for their use. As far as I know, no decision has been made for the use of this money. It may potentially be used as microcredit, where it will be loaned to a woman in the community as a significant investment in her enterprise, such as a mill for grinding crops. Ordinarily, she would not have been able to afford such an expensive piece of equipment, but with the loan it is possible. She would be expected to repay the loan within a certain period of conducting her business, so that the loan could be shared with the next woman waiting. This system has been shown to be effective since there exists such a tight social structure among the families and especially the woman in villages like Mékhé. A woman given the loan takes her responsibility to be successful and repay the money very seriously, and probably knows the woman waiting in line really well. The same responsibility has not been shown among the male populations of these villages.

The solar oven project is just the 1st stage in the effort to improve the deforested environment of many of Senegal’s villages. Deforestation caused by people cutting down trees to burn as cooking fuel has been treated by government subsidized butane fuel. My family in Yoff, the Gaye’s, depend highly on this fuel to cook. It is painless and easy in relation to using wood and charcoal fires. Another solution is to replant trees. FEM has sponsored a reforestation project in Mékhé. There is a good sized nursery at the women’s center in the back of the Ndiop quarter. It has 7 species of trees, all to be used for asthetic and shade purposes. As of now, they do not have plans to use any of these trees as fuel. I was hoping they would say that they did, since the community depends on wood still. Although the ovens have been a big success, you can not use ovens for everything. Wood is perhaps the most sustainable alternative to ovens, as it can be produced and packaged locally and is renewable. Charred wood, another alternative, is very popular in the village, but I do not yet understand where it comes from and how it stands sustainably. Gas is the 4th alternative, which is in my opinion the least sustainable, as it comes from some far, far away place and has high transport cost, requires some messy production/extraction procedure, and needs metal bottles for storage and transport. Right now, the government subsidizes the gas in Senegal to reduce the use of wood and deforestation.

The nursery’s seven species of trees are:
1.) Goyovier (has cashes nuts inside)
2.) Eucalyptus
3.) Mantaly (flowering tree; provides shade)
4.) Codria (pronounced corja; flowering tree)
5.) Prosopis (tisane tree; you can boil it in tea and fight fatigue!)
6.) Citronnier (provides citrus fruit)
7.) Badamua

There are 12 groups of 10 women who rotate caring for the nursery. That amounts to 120 women involved! That’s well more than the 50 who own a solar oven. Each group works for 3 days in a row, either a morning or an evening watering shift. On Wednesday night, Khadi, Anne and I helped them water and got our hands dirty!

On Thursday, June 22nd, we prepared our scales, measuring spoons and papers to begin testing bouillie de riz, an easy meal to cook that is a lot like rice pudding. It’s absolutely delightful, as they mix the pudding with about a quarter of a kilogram of sugar and top it off with milk. Two of our participating families used charbon de bois (charcoal) to cook it and two used bois de chauffe (wood). I was astounded by how little fuel it took to feed a large family! Since I’d never cooked a real meal over a wood fire before, I could only imagine that it would require a large pile. In fact, the women used just a couple handfuls! The women involved were wonderful – they did just what they needed to do. They followed our directions very closely. They waited for us to arrive and take weights and quantity measurements before they started cooking, and they were actively involved in the measuring process itself.

The next day we cooked Yassa, a delicious rice dish with a brown sauce with fried onions and either smoked fish or chicken mixed in. The following day we cooked Daxine, a really nice dish made from peanut paste and beans with fish. The experiments went over well, and the families seemed obliging to help us, although curious, since we were paying for their ingredients and spending time with them. Ngournay helped us pick the four test families, choosing not only personal friends of hers, but also families that could benefit from a good free meal- with lots of children and little means.

Mékhé is a quiet place, very tight knit, and besides the few hours a day we used to experiment, we had little else to do. Thankfully, Fatou is blessed with the gift of gab, and she chatted it up with the community. She’d spent 2 months there last summer, working with a bunch of nutritional interns, so she knew the village well already. Mékhé By Night, she joked, as we moseyed around the village at nightfall, as we were the center of attention for all those sitting on their porches, gazing into the distance.

On Friday, we travelled to the other side of town with Ngournay to visit a family who just bought their oven and needed instruction. Ngournay is the woman to call! We entered the well decorated house, clearly belonging to a well-off family. The father greeted us very affectionately, and we walked through the house to the back yard where the oven sat in the middle of the patio. The whole family stood around, waiting for Ngournay to begin her tutorial. They listened attentively and asked questions. Talking with the father later, we found out that he paid quite a bit for his oven because he feels strongly for sustainable technologies and he knew it would pay off with increasing energy costs. His oven was specially made for him. It was really cool to see a family totally take it upon themselves to request an oven and pay money for it, making an investment in it.

Anyway, that’s more or less the trip, and I may go back in the near future to get more information. It’s hotter there, though, being much farther inland than Yoff, and I’m reluctant to return right away.

Tonight, Marian, the co-director of CRESP, is having the interns over for dinner. She’s a dynamic person, full of spunk, and nearing 70! She was a professor in nutrition and action research at Tufts for many years and is affiliated with Cornell too, so although she’s based at the CRESP annex building, she spends a good chunk of the year in the states. She has a lot on her plate these days but is a blast when you can get her attention for a few minutes. She’s a wealth of knowledge. Right now I'm at CRESP sitting at the front desk with my brother Ouzain who has to work here literally all day. We take turns on Sundays buying one another cookies. Today was my turn to buy, and I ate my sleeve in like half the time it took him. :p

Ok, signing out! Peace all- Melissa

ok, work related stuff!

So my Dad just wrote, asking me to talk about work related stuff. Thanks for the nudge, Dad!
Up until now, my days have revolved around getting accqainted with the village of Yoff where I live, understanding the solar oven project in Mekhe, trying to learn enough Wolof to get by, and finding equilibrium between my body and the water here/the environment.

Today we leave for Mehke for 4 days to conduct an energt audit. This will serve to find out just how much energy and money the women and families save when they use the ovens, instead of burning wood, charcoal or butane gas.

We're leaving now! I'll fill y'all in when we return on Sunday.

Thanks for your interest and a bientot,

Melissa

These folks can dance!

Last night, I went to my first African drum circle! The style of music is Sabahr, with tam-tam drums and djambes, larger drums. I was in bed most of the day with a weak stomach, thinking I wasn't going to be able to do anything fun all day. When Mantou, my 18 year old sister came in my room with puppy dog eyes around 11, claiming she wouldn't go out without me, I couldn't refuse. I patted my gut, praying that it would be good to me and we walked to the small, sandy courtyard where the dancing would be. We were early, and there was a roped off area with seats and a small stage at the far end, filled with drum players. We each paid the 100Fcfa, or about .20 US to earn ourselves seats. Slowly, everyone from the neighborhood started piling in; poorer women and all of their children leaning over the rope to get a decent view, not wanting to pay the charge. These women sneaked in under the rope, pushing their children ahead of them and sitting on the ground. There eventually were so many women and girls encircling the courtyard that people were pratically sitting on my lap, and I was sharing my seat with a small girl. The drums started to play in what seemed like haphazard chaos and arms began flailing. All the women wore beautiful dresses or bright colored tank tops and tight pants, looking hot for the special soiree. One woman sprang up from her seat, ran right up to the drum circle, and began flailing her arms as though shooing away masses of mosquitos, and kicking her legs out in front of her and to the side, almost in a Riverdance fashion with the addition of hot coals under her feet. It was amazing. She danced for perhaps 20 seconds, then ran back to her spot, giggling. One by one, or two at a time, women burst from their seats like jumping beans to explode in short bursts before the drummers. Sometimes the drummers would urge them on by taking their drum directly before the dancer and playing a rhythm just for her. They would all sprint back to their seats, almost feeling shy after their short, intense burst of energy and femininity. It was so cool! I compared the style of dance I'm used to, a bit calm, paced to spread over the course of a three minute song or something. Theirs seems more passionate, more from the heart in a way. When a woman is inspired, she shakes what she's got in front of the whole community! Old women, obsese women, small children, and even guys, totally going nuts in the sand. Usually, the 30 year old women were the most elegant, having years of experience dancing, but also the agility to do sweet moves and such. Very very impressive.

My stomach beckonned me to return home, so off we went. I then went with Max to the airport, just a five minute drive from Yoff, to pick up our newest intern addition from the States, Anne. Her flight was late getting in, around 3:30, and being the tired weakling I am I left Max there and headed home for bed. Apparently Anne arrived safe and sound, a little disoriented, at around 4am. I fell asleep reading. My current read is very good, it's called So Long a Letter, or Une Si Long Lettre, by a Senegalese woman named Mariama Ba. It's well known here for hitting close to home for the Senegalese and their polygamous society, since the narrator in the book is a married woman whose husband takes a younger woman as his second wife. She's not ok with the situation, but there is little she can do within the constrained social structure of Yoff/Dakar, where the Koran is followed closely, allowing a man to have up to 4 wives. I haven't encountered many examples of polygamy so far, and my host parents are monogamous. But apparently it's pretty common here and men tend to say that women don't mind their husbands remarrying, and that wives offen befriend one another and are like sisters after a while. But, there doesn't seem to be a lot of female discussion on the topic, and I haven't had the opportunity to really ask in a tactful way yet. I'm interested in what they would say if they weren't supposed to pretend that they weren't offended/affected by it!

Otherwise, life is pretty calm here and I'm moving slowly to avoid heat exhaustion. I miss the lush greens of upstate NY, as everything is dry and brown here! That said, it's a wonderful community here in Yoff and I'm very lucky to take part in it all. My siblings are great and as long as the food sits well, it is totally a treat. Missin' y'all in the U-S of A! Love, Mel

Hopefully, more pictures to come!

I just tried posting my sole digital photo, sent to me by Julia Blue, my fellow intern in crime. If I'm not mistaken, a used digital camera may be coming my way someday soon!

Max, Julia and I visited Dakar on my second day there.
It's big, noisy, and crazy. This is toward the end of our visit,
in front of a well known cathedral. 

weekend in Ngaparu

Happy Monday everyone,

This past weekend was quite an experience in the Senegalese way of life and as an introduction to their work ethic and also the status of the sustainability movements here.

CRESP is an organization here in Senegal that borrows its accronym from a similar umbrella organization at Cornell. The Cornell CRESP provides support for all sorts of community involvement and enrichement projects in Ithaca, among these smaller groups is Engineers for a Sustainable World (ESW). The sustainability movement grew right along with that in Ithaca decades ago and the CRESP that developed here in part a sistership with it. CRESP supports the growing ecovillage system of Senegal, along with a microcredit program to women in small villages to start their own microenterprises and the solar oven project. It turns out that there are anywhere from 35 to 50 ecovillages in Senegal! I instinctively thought of the ecovillage of Ithaca when I heard this, and had a hard time trying to picture the 'back to basics' and minimalist mentalities and hippy culture fitting in Senegal. This indeed is not the way it is here. Ecovillage simply refers to a preexisting, traditional village here, where members of the community have recognized the need to change their habits upon recognizing the consequences of deforestation, poor waste disposal practices, poor economy, etc.... Many realize that they CANNOT wait for the government to help. There are no practical programs to help them. Thus, CRESP acts as a facilitator and resource for the villages looking for change.

CRESP is a relatively small office filled with dynamic Senegalese and foreigners. They practice action-research, a philosophy that involves active participation in projects, and informing and activating all people involved in any way with the outcomes of the desired project. Practicing action-research also implies that ever plan of action is only a tentative one and that based on research findings made each day, one's plan of action should be adjusted to best accomodate the situation the following day.

This past weekend was a really interesting example of this philosophy in practice. CRESP organized a retreat for ecovillage representatives to organize some form of network between them. Representatives from about 11 of the ecovillages all reunited for the first time in Ngaparu, about 60 miles south of Dakar. Although Ismael, the director of CRESP facilitated and led many discussions, everyone was encouraged to participate and speak on behalf of their villages, so that it would be known exactly what problems that village faced and what projects they hoped to integrate there.

It turns out that there currently exists no network between them at all. Phone calls are not made, internet doesn't exist in many villages, and one representative, a quiet, thoughtful man from a non-Wolof speaking area, said that he didn't even know that there were other ecovillages. So, this meeting was very constructive for getting the ball rolling and interconnecting ideas.

The weekend produced a lot of friendships and a committee that will begin meeting on a regular basis to make decisions. It was decided that each ecovillage should report on its activities; the failures and successes, so that other villages will have access to that information. No need to reinvent the wheel is the idea. And this should save emmense amounts of time, as many villages are excited to introduce small loans to certain female-led projects. As far as solar ovens go, Mekhe is the only village that has a history with them. Abdoulay Toure began building them there in the 1980's and has been perfecting it ever since. In the past couple years, Senegalese and volunteers alike have been training groups of female teachers in the solar cooking process, to get them psyched for the idea, then spread the love to the other women of the village. So far, a grant has provided 50 ovens to Mekhe and most of the women who have them are pretty happy. 50 more will be distributed hopefully this summer. We have learned that it's best to ask a small fee for the ovens, dispite the fact that they were funded for us and there is no direct cost for us, so that the women really feel invested in them and want to integrate them into their cooking routine. If not, a woman may accept the oven just because, not really taking it seriously. A fee weeds out those who take the concept and practice to heart and those who don't.

Right now, I spend my days reading reports of those who have already worked on the project. When the intern director arrives from the US, Marian, we will work out a plan for my research. I feel most inspired to focus on taking Mekhe as an example of how solar ovens can succeed in a village, and implementing the concepts in another village, Mbom, that really wants to try the ovens. I am learning that everything is subject to change here at any time, and since this really is a first-time project, there is no conventional method to follow, no standard to meet. So, I feel almost silly setting a specific goal for my summer so soon, as it is likely overly ambitious and too focused at such an early stage. But, that gives you all an idea of where my thoughts are and hopefully sets a bar for me and interns who come after me to reach.

The weekend was slow-paced and thoughtful; allowing lots of time for social interaction. It was perhaps the polar opposite of an American office meeting. We met in an open air pavillion on the beach and slept in airy rooms. Meals were casual and for breakfast we had coffee and bread with butter; for lunch we shared huge, round plates of food, like rice and onions and whole, fried fish. For dinner, we would have rice again with sauce, or noodly-like things with sauce. With the Coup du Monde just getting started, some of us would jam ourselves into the sole bedroom with a TV to watch. I've never seen a full size bed hold that many grown men, pressed up against each other as though they've know each other forever. Most of the representatives were men, but it was nice to see that a few were women, and they were taken every bit as seriously as the men. They spoke up a little less frequently than many of the men, but when they did, they did so very eloquently and assertively. I hear that Mekhe has been such a solar oven success due to the dynamic, highly enthusiastic group of women that lives there. They take the financial responsibility of their families very seriously, whereas their husbands would like to spend extra money on cars and on other women (no joke!) Teaching these women the benefits of the ovens, and letting them take the responsibility of their use and propagation into their own hands, as well as providing them micro-loans, is hugely successful. How exciting!

Ok, this has been a really long entry; everyone still awake? If there are any questions, let me know!

Legi legi! (later!)
Melissa

A few have asked for my address. We don't really have a street name or a house number, so it's best to write to me at work, care of my host dad Mamadou.

Melissa Z
c/o Mamadou Gaye
BP 8873
Dakar-Yoff, Senegal

Almost one week in

Hello all,

It's a hot Friday morning and I just got to CRESP. Birame, the Senegalese CRESP employee who I'll be working with, just got in. I figured that I'd write for a few minutes and wait for him to get settled.

I'll tell you a little about my routine. Each morning, I wake up at 8 and make my way to the bathroom outside and then the shower inside. The family has a shower as we know them, but sometimes it's best to fill a bucket with water ad use the scoop and pour method, as sometimes the water doesn't turn on. After that, my brother Max jumps in. I return to my room and find that he has already boiled water, and placed the pot on a nice towel on my floor, along with two large pieces of French bread and the chocolate spread I was told to keep hiden in my room cabinet. I get dressed and such and then Max returns and we eat. We then hurry out the door to make it to CRESP a few minutes after 9, only after formally wishing eah family member peace and a good day.

'Salam aleykoum!' to which they respond, 'Alekoum Salam!'
'ca va?' and they say, 'ca va'.

After that, any number of confusing verbal exchanges an occur in Wolof. They all relate to asking how one slept, how ones friends and family are, how the weather is hot, etc...I'm getting there, but not there yet.

Last night, I got home at about 6 after playing on the internet for a while. Feeling nostalgic for home, I dropped my things in my room and headed for the company of my siblings in the living room. Aisha and Mantou were watching French soap-operas, which I love. Mantou asked if I wanted 'des tresses' - or braids. I said sure, and we headed to the market to get some bands.

It's good to note here that there are very few material items in the house. We had to go buy bands because no one had them in the house, despite the fact that everyone uses them. Here, you buy what you need, right before you need it. Need to do laundry? You buy a single use detergent packet. You need tea? You ask papa for a small stash of lipton teas, which the kids guard with their life. This is just because it is such an open culture. Neighbors, brothers and sisters all come in your room and use or take what they see, only sometimes asking. It's not rude, just that most everything is common. So, if the family were to be a bit more 'American' and keep a pantry of food, friends and neighbors would soon catch on, and pass in and out and clean them out. So, before every meal, rice, fish, lettuce or mangos are bought.

Anyway, we went to get bands, and Mantou gave me braids! It was a nice evening; Mantou doing my hair, Maimona singing to her brother's music, Libas (the littlest boy!) using the crayons I brought (thanks Simon) to draw a picture, and other family coming in and out of my room. I felt really good then.

After, Max showed me how to get to the beach where the fishermen work. If you exit our door and turn left, walk for about 5 minutes straight, you get to the beach. So nice.

As far as my research goes; it looks like I'll be focusing on the economic, social and environmental impacts of the solar oven on two 'test' ecovillages: the villages of Mekhe and Mbom. It sounds great, and I think this is more up my alley than trying to help on the last technical/design elements of the oven itself. They have a bunch of mechanical engineers on that. So, to begin, tonight several of us will leave to attend a conference involving many of the ecovillages of Senegal. The goal is to share opinions and ideas on the solar oven use, the micro credit program (which so far has given a small loan to 20 women in ecovillages to start their own small businesses, with success! the key being that other women are on the wait list for loans, so there is pressure on those who receive loans to repay it ASAP and do well economially), reforestation, and other topics. I don't know much about where we are going.

Ok, I'll cut it off here for now!

Melissa

Yoff

Hey all, (from email sent June 6th)

I'll be updating a blog site a couple times a week, I hope, so I can keep
you all informed of my daily mishaps, like locking myself in the toilet Monday
afternoon by shutting the lock too far in the door after being warned
about the sticky lock. Yes, it was hot in there and there was a moment of
panic!! Oh, adventures I've seen!

Of course, blog style works such that each post that I make appears at the
top of the screen. If you want to see earlier posts, you scroll down the
page and start at the bottom. Since I'm not sure how often I'll be able to
write, it may be worth your while to check it only on a weekly basis or so.

You can access my blogspot at:

melissatoubab.blogspot.com

All goes well here; feeling a little lost with all the Wolof around me,
which is completely different from French. But many people are patiently
teaching me greetings and expressions, so there is hope for this toubab
(caucasian) yet!

My host family is great; I have about 10 brothers and sisters. My
bros are: Max, Ouzan, Hibou, Libas, Coday, and a cousin Abou. Hibou
lives with his wife, Fallmar, at the house too. My sis's are:
Maimona, Aisha, Mantou, and one who lives in Italy, and no one really
talks about. My host Mom is Fatou (a common female name) and my host
dad is Mamadou. Everyone is being so sweet to me as I learn basic
expressions. It turns out that almost everybody in the house speaks
French, but Wolof is the native language, so most of the time all
interactions are in Wolof. I try to greet people in Wolof and express
myself in French. Greetings here are long and are very important!

Monday, Max took Julia and me to Dakar for the morning. Julia is
another intern here to do finance. Dakar is a big, loud city, and we
quickly wanted to return to the peace and security of Yoff. Yoff
really is special. It is little and lots of people know each other.
It is clearly separated fro, Dakar by miles of expanse and shacks.
The houses in Yoff do not look like anything special from the outside.
Inside, though, they can be really beautiful and nice. Our house has
two floors and most of the bedrooms are upstairs in open air. By that
I mean that each room's door leads outside, to the roof. It's nice.

Max took me to the beach both of my first two days here and that was
really impressive. The whole community seems to come out and play in
the water. Boys play soccer along the beach. There are huts you can
rent for shade.

Yesterday, Monday night, I got very sick. The diarhea started! Not
only that, but I was up all night vomiting as well. I was really
scared, because I was paranoid that I had something much worse than
just the traveler's stomach ache. I spent all day in bed reading and
sleeping and making periodic, strained walks downstairs to the turkish
bath (by the way, I am learning to use water instead of toilet paper!)
while Max, Ouzan and Mantou all tended to me very sweetly all day. I
almost just wanted to be all alone in my misery, but having them burst
in my room and sit with me or stroke my hair did me lots of good.

Today I am weak from not eating, but I came to work at CRESP. I am
waiting for the director to talk with me. We have a nice cyber cafe
here and although the connections are slow, it is great to have some
free internet.

What else...well, I'll send this off now. I miss you all like crazy;
the past few days have been a huge culture shock for me, but I think
it's going to get better.

Much love from lovely Yoff,

Melissa

Casa, continued!

So the airport worker escorted me to the departure area, where I thought he was going to take me aside to make sure that I was ok, then send me on my way as quickly as possible.
Instead, he looked me in the eyes, telling me that when he saw me get flustered at the desk and when tears began to well in my eyes, he felt something for me. Sweetly, he asked if I'd stay with him there to chat for a while. I asked him if he was feeling alright, asking the crazy, flustered girl to stick around. He insisted that he take my email, and in exchange I asked if I could pass through the gates to go sit down. He asked if I had a boyfriend. Why yes, I promised. I asked him if he had a girlfriend, in an effort to stay on his good side so he wouldn't snatch my newly given ticket from my hand and tear it up on the spot. No, he didn't have one. Well, he went on; he did have one, online, but it turned out she was ugly so he dumped her. Ok, I said. I asked hi, if there was a camera recording our interaction or if his friends were watching, thinking
I was the butt of a joke. I then politely insisted that I must sit down on the other side of the gate. So there, we parted ways, but I will always remember my third friendly Moroccan with fondness. Five hours later, I was on a plane, viewing the lights of Dakar and Yoff, about to land.

Casablanca, my three Moroccan friends

I had the fortune of spending a day in Casablanca en route to Dakar: I landed at 8 in the morning, having the plan of taking a train immediately to the center of Casa to make the most of the layover and avoid just sitting around at the airport. The first thing that occurred to me was that there were many single men watching me. I suddenly felt pretty alone, and when I got on the train and felt that I was getting some extra attention, I devised the plan that I would attach myself to the nearest bunch of tourists, explaining to them my discomfort with being alone. I pulled out the scarf I had brought with me so that I could wrap my head like the other women on the train. Perhaps that would make me look like less of a tourist target and reduce qttention on me. Although the feeling of having eyes all over me didn't leave, I quickly stopped feeling threatened. After actually getting a few funny looks from people, probably because I'd done such a bqd job wrapping my hair; I realized I wasn't fooling anyone, and that I was going to stand out as a foreigner no matter what; albeit one who was trying to show extra respect by trying to fit in. I waited with a man selling street cigarettes for the better part of an hour waiting for the number 8 bus that would take me to the Grand Mosque, the largest mosque in the world; dedicated to Kinbg Hussein II and the only mosque in Morocco allowing non-Muslims to enter. I arrived at the beautiful Mosque, which looks like its straight from a fairy tale, built right on the edge of the water. Magnificent. I then headed toward the rocky water where many were sunbathing and playing. My heavy backpack and handbag were starting to feel heavier, but walking around definitely seemed worth it. I descended the concrete stairs to get to the water; carefully stepping to avoid slipping on algae. But alas; on the second to last step, I went down, It must have looked painful, my falling backwards into the stairs, but my backpack saved the day and my wrists only got razed a little. Pretty embarrassed, a man helped hoist me up and I gathered myself. Then entered my first Moroccan friend. Mohammed first spoke to me in English; but we soon went off in French and I was appreciative of his friendliness. He's about my age, and he told me he studied economics but really loves philosophy. We sat on the rocks for a few minutes, then walked to a swim spot so that he could jump in. He lives close to that beach, near the Mosque, and often comes there to get inspired on the weekends. Our bellies were rumbling, and he very kindly invited me over for couscous, but I declined. I explained that it was a nice offer; but that I needed to be heading back to the buses to get back to the station to catch my flight at 7. Arriving at the buses, the 8 wasn't there, naturally, because there is only one bus for the whole city. So, I took a gamble, climbing onto the 139, as my cigarette selling friend had mentionned may work as well. It took off and quickly filled up, built up speed and rarely slowed down. It zoomed past my stop, and I leaned over to the person next to me to ask what I should do. I thought my French was decent enough to be understood, but no one could help me, and then a gentleman touched my wrist and motioned for me to get off the bus with him. He was a young guy, too, and he walked me the few blocks back to the station. He was very nice and mqde conversation with me, but I couldn't help but like he was looking at me like I was a little crazy. I didn't try to convince him otherwise; I was starting to get used to the look, and hoped only that he'd point me to the station. Well, he did, then asked to sit zith me there. I explained that I was very tired and not really up for company, as it was true, plus I really just didn't want to befriend mqles all day. So, there parted my second generous Maroccan friend. Both friends exchanged emails with me, which is pretty cute. I arrived again at the Casa airport, completely exhausted. I was three hours early for the flight; better safe than sorry. I read for an hour, then decided to check in. The woman at the desk looked at me funny; asking for my ticket. There it is, I pointed. She said no; there should be a ticket in the paper I gave her. I was sure I didn't get one in NYC. Another airline worker came, asked me where my ticket was. He asked me to search my luggage. Tired and frustrated, knowing that the piece of paper before me was the only thing I'd been given, I was on the brink of tears. The guy stared blankly at me, and whispered, please don't cry. Apparently I was beginning to make a small scene. His superior approached, asking where my ticket was. You can't get on the plane without your ticket, he exclaimed, as though I'd been hiding it or neglecting to recall where it was. I never got it, I pleaded. I told them that I could show them my e-ticket receipt to prove myself. They took it; sighed; and jogged to the counter. The first guy typed a bit, tore up my piece of paper, and handed me something identical. There; he said; escorting me from the counter to the waiting area. .....to be continued.....

Departing email

Hello all, The time has come! I leave for beautiful Senegal tomorrow night. I spent the past week with Mom, Dad and Margo in Ithaca, which was a nice way to start the summer. I'm at Cornell right now, just about done with our three-day orientation with Engineers for a Sustainable World (ESW). I'm brushing up on my French, learning a couple of Wolof greetings, getting a feel for the status of the solar oven project, and trying to breathe deeply and move slowly to avoid profuse sweating and panicking in this heat! To refresh your memory/tell you for the first time, I will intern with the non-government organization CRESP Senegal for ten weeks, beginning June 3rd and ending August 15th. I plan to learn about solar ovens and then work directly with the Senegalese who have been promoting their use in Senegal over the past 20 years. When I arrive in Dakar/Yoff on Saturday at 11 at night, Max, a member of CRESP, will be at the airport to pick me up and take me to my host family to get a lot of sleep. He'll be wearing a white baseball cap so that I recognize him, which I find very cute. The nature of this internship is such that the first couple weeks will really be spent just acclimating myself to the village of Yoff. I'll solidify project goals slowly, making sure not to jump into things before understanding what is driving the solar oven project. As far as I know, I will be traveling alone, but there will be 4 other North American volunteers there this summer, as well as about twenty Senegalese volunteers. So, with this brief email to open what I expect will be a summer full of contact, I wish you a wonderful summer and thank you so much for your support! Hugs, Melissa

Woohoo!

My first post!