Flies on poo

…they got nothin’ when  compared to toubabs in strollers.

Getting to know people here has been difficult .  Meeting people has not.  Heads are constantly turning and looking at us when we are walking places.  It’s not just the stroller (although we have only seen a handful of them…all steered by white people (toubabs)).  Charlie and Maeve are magnets to our darker skinned neighbors and strangers. They love to come up and shake their hand, touch their hair, just touch them in any way.  Maeve is usually more up for the commotion than Charlie. 

They are quite the “in” if we had any language skills to get to know the people.  I took a walk with them today and it made one lady’s day just to come up and have Maeve shake her hand and Charlie squirm away when she tried the same with her.  She then went and got two white towels (she had a stand selling them), as gifts for both Charlie and Maeve.  Just a small token of her appreciation. 

The people here are truly special.  Just like any other place, though.  Hope you have a good holidays with the “special people” you surround yourself with this Christmas. 

Kyle

p.s. my parents and sis are coming in tomorrow for a week!  We are all very excited!  Merry Christmas!

Walking Away

note:  this is kyle speaking here: school is out and I've had some time to think.  thus, here comes a thought or two your way (beware...there will be more in the coming days).  hope it provides a window into our life here

It has never been my strong suit.  I’m a people pleaser.  I like people to be happy.  Saying “No” and sticking to it has always been hard.   Turning around and walking the other way is a notch or two higher in my book than just saying “No.” And on top of that, it’s harder saying “No” when it comes to people seemingly worse off than myself.  I’ve struggled on 2 fronts with this walking away phenomenon while being here in Africa, one good and one bad, amidst my people pleasing mentality.  Let me explain:

Input this people pleasing tendency in an African marketplace. We went to one yesterday.  If I were to stick to my natural bent, I would leave with empty pockets and hands full of bags every time we go shopping.  The persistent business owners would devour my approval addict affinity (we both usually walk away drained from all the bartering and incessant desires to have us “come and look.”).   Africans love to see white people…especially ones in a marketplace.  Saying “No, Merci” upwards of 4 times is almost necessary to pound the point home you don’t want to buy something (along with the occasional “not today” line).  Them pleading you to “just take a look” because it would “make me so happy” is the first step down this path.  Walking away is something every toubab (white person) out here needs to learn…especially in a marketplace.  Walking away is necessary here. And I’m getting better at it.  It gets easier the more times you do it. …But it is something I don’t want to get used to by any means.

Scenario #2: Input this mentality anywhere outside a marketplace.  Kids coming up to you with yellow bowls and no shoes, torn shirts and dirt ingrained jeans asking for money (your typical talibe kid…good article here).  Handicapped people along the roadside begging.   Women who are seemingly widows or whose husband is no longer with them and with 3 kids sitting on the side of the road (all day).  A man in tattered clothes slowly walking barefoot alongside you on the street.   Taking the girls for a walk and seeing people living in shacks next to buildings only 4 “blocks” from your home.  It’s pretty unnerving.  At least it can be.

Given those scenarios, walking away doesn’t always seem the right thing to do.  You can become calloused to these sights.  The sights are wrong.  What do you do?  Things shouldn’t be the way you see them (at least in my Western eyes).  “What can I do?” is usually the question I think.  And don’t get me wrong.  People are wonderfully happy here and have managed to look out for their needs despite their scant resources and position in life they find themselves.  Nonetheless, I think turning the other way and walking away can be a slippery slope.  I don’t ever want it to become easy. And unfortunately it has become easier.

It’s been a fine line, with ignoring leading to acceptance on one side and disturbance, hopefully leading to action motivated by compassion on the other. 

So what have we been doing?  We’ve been trying to impact those outside our own “American bubble” here but still in our world.  Those we can get to know and build relationships with.  It’s mostly boiled down to befriending those around us not connected to the school(often the guards we see hanging out around the neighborhood)  and baking cookies/giving them goodies when we have the chance (as well as always greeting them, as this is very important here).  Mainly just trying to show small acts of love.   Planting seeds.  Exercising prayer and patience (neither of which are my strong suits at least).   It’s tougher to help in tangible, practical, relational ways given the assumed “need “here than I had envisioned but we are trying to do our part.  The language barrier has been a HUGE stumbling block to really engaging and knowing the people, rather than observing the culture.  Nonetheless, it’s the situation we find ourselves in.  It’s been a process. 

And I hope the walking away feeling continues to disturb and disrupt.  I hope that part never changes.

the blog i hoped to never write

well it happened. we kinda thought it would at some point. didnt make it any easier.

my rambuctious, stubborn, loveable daughter turned sad, cuddly, and feverish. no eating, no drinking.

to the hospital we go.

pretty sure i cried more than she did the first day. it was the worst feeling to see maeve sick and have no idea how to get help. i had limited resources in my foggy brain. kyle thankfully kept calm and led me to call some friends who work from home and speak french. they quickly came to the conclusion that the best option was to take her to the emergency room at the best hospital in the city. repeat, best hospital in the city.

we arrive unsure of where the emergency room is. not a problem, as there is currently only one pediatrician in house and he is in his office seeing patients.

he takes us next, asks a few questions, checks her over and confirms what i suspected. she is dehydrated from whatever it is that is causing the fevers and diarrhea. she needs fluids. we then make our way to our room. before we can settle in though and get poor maevers taken care of. first we must pay. we pay a cap of 750,000 CFA (500cfa roughly= $1) and are informed we will get reimbursed upon discharge with whatever money is left over. different, but ok. lets get on with it.

we make it to our room and the staff quickly arrive ready to draw blood and insert an i.v.  we are asked to step out. my heart aches to hear her cry "mama" on the other side of the door

coming from a medical background there were some things that i felt were a bit off.
for example, there are no name bands or i.d. of anysort for the patients.   for nursing buddies-can you imagine JCAHO here? it kinda made me chuckle in a not so funny kind of way

staff wear sandals and no socks.

there are no towels in the bathroom, i was informed to use toilet paper to dry my hands. this made me question what the staff use to dry there hands. or, do the staff even wash there hands...

they checked maeves temperature every four hours, but never once any other vital sign or assessment, except for the one time i asked them to listen to her lungs.

the room had a hospital bed without side rails for maeve and i to sleep in. she only fell out once.

other than those observations the hospital was pretty nice. it reminded me of an american hospital, just dated.

although quite modern for african standards...we are in africa. we passed a nurse doing his daily prayers on his prayer mat in the hall. there were ants in our room despite the fact that housekeeping cleaned twice a day. at 4:30pm everyday they delivered tea to your room, dinner at 7.

we saw plenty of no smoking signs (good) in the hospital, but apparently opening a window and holding your head out while you smoke is allowed. i guess "technically" you aren't smoking inside...

by the end of her stay she was getting pretty accustomed to pushing around her own iv pole.

the day we left she met her doctor at the door and reached out to shake his hand. (a senegelese kid at heart!)

i think that was a good indicator that she was back to her old self.  we left that evening, happy to return home and rejoin our family.

thanks to all here in Dakar who helped us out in many different capacities and to those all over who prayed for her. she is back to her happy, hydrated self!

food sentences...ya know, sentences about food

our fridge is currently on the outs. our whipping cream is curdling.

our freezer is stock full of rice and whole wheat flour. really, like 8lbs of flour. (to kill weevils)

sometimes we go through an insane amount of matches trying to get our oven pilot light going.

instead of just containers of flour and sugar on the counter i have also added insecticide.

there is no dishwasher or garbage disposal. luxuries i certainly miss.

i have learned to make my own ranch dressing, syrup, and ricotta cheese. who knew???

a staple senegalese meal consists of rice, potatoes, carrots, and sauce and lots of onions.

i love that you can get fresh bread at any of the neighborhood boutiques.

kyle typically watches the girls while i finish dinner, however, last month i came out of the kitchen and found the following...true story.


patiently waiting charlie



mischievous maeve



kyle, self-explanatory...


some regular items at stores in the states look a bit different in Senegal.  guess the vegetable below.

answer: the wimpiest celery i have ever seen.

bleaching fruits and vegetables doesnt sound strange to me anymore.




 



my cooking skills here in Senegal have been seriously challenged. i will overcome.



maybe we aren't so different after all

tabaski, oh tabaski...basically its alot of sheep.

once upon a time a man named abraham had a son, ishmael (and isaac). God had abraham sacrifice his son,ishmael. sad. just before the sacrifice was to be made, God provided a sheep instead. happy.

so to celebrate the Lord's provision, muslims celebrate once a year on the holiday known as tabaski.

sheep lot

a few weeks prior to tabaski sheep lots started going up. muslims rushed out to pick the best sheep their money could buy ($200-$1000).  the sheep were thrown in the back of cars and trucks or strapped to the roof and happily delivered home.


ram in the back of a taxi


preparations were made for the big day well in advance, new clothes tailored, gifts bought, special dishes brought out. travel plans made to return to the village to see friends and family.

a bit nuts here in muslim country.

other side of the globe...

a fallen world seperated from God. sad. Jesus born to be our ultimate sacrifice to restore our separation from God. happy

so to celebrate God's greatest gift, christians celebrate once a year on the holiday known as Christmas.

picking out the christmas tree to bestow in the window. figuring out a way to get it home...

black friday christmas shopping, new outfits for Christmas pictures and church, Christmas lights and Christmas dishes, crazy holiday travel from one family to the next...

the sanity of a christian country?

Who is in my shower?

my knight in shining armor comes in the form of a late 20's, Senegalese lady who comes to my house 3x a week.  we call her Therese. 

oh the things she does!  she cleans. goes to the market and gets fresh fruits and vegetables. cleans and cuts the produce. watches my children.  takes me to the fabric market and barters for low prices, helps me with my french. and is a seamstress by trade. 
on top of that she has a great personality and i really like her!  it is amazing how God answers prayers. before we even came to Senegal, kyle had on his prayer list to help us find a good fit for us in regards to househelp. Voila! or maybe an Amen!

most of the missionaries in Dakar have househelp in some form. whether they come for a full day, 1/2 days, or have cooks. 

it is pretty well expected that us, as white(toubabs) americans, would and should have househelp. we are quite wealthy in comparison and it is seen as right for us to share our wealth.

therese came to us by a recommendation of an employee at Dakar Academy. Therese cleans for them 2 days a week and was looking for more work. i found out on a Weds that my previous help was no longer available and on Friday Therese was at my door by 8am. No interview or contract or background check...

Some oddities of house help are that they leave a pair of shoes at your house and take showers in your bathroom before they go for the day. Senegalese deem outward appearence as very important so Therese will show up for work looking all fancy. Head straight to the bathroom and come out 5 mins later ready to work.

We definetly have some language barrier issues, but for the most part everything gets done eventually. so what if i end up with 4 green peppers when i asked for pears. or it takes us 5 trips to 2 stores over a course of 3 hours to get 1 frozen chicken. we are making it work and am pretty sure i am going to desperately miss her when we are back in the states!

faith

Talibe

here begins my feeble attempt to explain a talibe center...

Who: volunteers (missionaries) create centers in the city for talibe boys.
          and who are the talibe boys?
talibe boys are boys (ages 5 and up i believe) who are sent from their village to the city(Dakar) to learn and study the Koran from a teacher (known as a Marabout) and live in a daara (communal living 20-30 kids). Marabout go out to different villages in Senegal and recruit boys to come and study Islam and the Koran. Most of the day however is spent begging for food and money rather than learning. giving alms to the poor is one of the 5 pillars of Islam. the talibe boys get plenty of practice learning that principle!


talibe boys and neighborhood children at the center


What: the Talibe Center is set up to provide one meal a day, showers, reprieve, laundry, medical treatment/first aid, Bible teaching

shower room

Where: there are multiple talibe centers in Dakar, one number I heard was 4. maybe more. the one i volunteer at is in a courtyard of a christian church.

When: mon-friday. 9-1. doors close at 1pm, but the volunteers continue to treat everyone who is there, just no new boys allowed in after 1. the volunteers i work with also receive house calls

How: this is the cool part. the marabout are fine with the christian talibe centers. while these boys are "learning" the koran the marabout are in charge of them. these boys have left their families behind. it is easier and cheaper for the marabout to have the boys go to these different centers to receive medical care and such. the talibe center i help at works with about 10 different marabout and their boys. the missionary ladies say that most of the marabout they work with are pleasent and appreciative and compliant. This is not the case for all. as in all things, some marabout are corrupt and use the talibe boys as a means to make money and are abusive.

A day at the talibe center
doors open at 9am. set up mats and toys/games for the boys. 

begin cooking breakfast. breakfast is the same everyday here. hot grain cereal cooked on a propane tank-like contraption, scooped into a large bowl, milk poured over top. 5 spoons to a bowl and the boys crowd around and eat communally.

dirty dishes

first come first serve: each boy receives a number when they walk in (we write a number on their arm/hand in marker). this is to help keep order with who gets to shower first and receive medical care first.

the boys then come up to jane and "mama" for first aid and pressing ailments.


"mama" at the medical table




jane (started this talibe center)



man oh man do we see a variety of things. mostly wounds, from either a disease or abscess or physical infliction. and lately malaria. last monday we had done 5 malaria tests; 3 positive. today Jane had performed 9 malaria test by the time i left at noon. 3 positive.



wound care



malaria testing

                                              

okay that was my attempt at explaining the talibe center. i will hopefully have more stories from there as i continue to volunteer. (every monday 9:30ish to noonish)

i just wanted to put out there a general blog of what a talibe center even is.

truely, it is beautiful organized chaos.
small glimpse: two women behind a medical table treating wounds and malaria while 30+ boys hang out washing clothes, talking on their cell phones, or working on their rap careers with the Psalms sung in wolof playing over the boombox.
not a bad monday, faith