ndank-ndank mooy japp golo ci naay

...slowly, slowly, one can trap the monkey in the bush.

A popular Senegalese saying, and also, very pertinent to life here. Slowly, slowly everything. From walking to waiting in line to the internet. Everything except taxis perhaps. I love it.

Which brings me to the topic of this post, inspired by Kelly of Barcelona fame and April from UGB. The topic- my 3 favorite things, and the 3 biggest challenges of the trip so far.

Let's start with my favorites, because I love this place:

1) The pace of life. It could not be more different from what I'm used to. Today, I woke up at 7:30 of my own accord, having gone to sleep at 10 last night. I spent 2 hours eating breakfast, stretching, going for a mile run (I know, who am I... yes, I still hate running, but I want to get back some muscle and stamina in case I join soccer), stretching again, and showering (the water is finally back on! They had turned it off for a few days, because, well, that's what they do here). Then I spent 3 hours doing my laundry, by hand! I love it. It's really relaxing, and feels like a great accomplishment afterwards. While the clothes soaked, I read a lot- about 2 hours today. Usually I get in 4 hours of reading or so- and I never even liked reading. I highly recommend The Poisonwood Bible. I had lunch and wolof, and then napped and read. Finally, Christine and I went into the city to watch a film screening which had been mysteriously cancelled, or so it seems. So instead we walked around, made friends with a local shopkeeper, and came back to hang out again. It's incredible. Things will pick up when I start classes next week, and when I get more into my independent study, but I am fully planning on making sure things stay relaxed and slow. It's so different. Things are so slow, in fact, that my dance class that started at 4 on Saturday didn't end up starting until 6: at 4:35 the instructor showed up, by 5:30 the rest of the students had showed up, and by 6 we finally found an empty room to dance in, since the usual one was locked. Oh, Senegal.

2) The challenges. It probably seems like I've done a lot of blog complaining... ew rats, fish eyes, roaches, hot hot heat, cold showers, etc. But honestly, I love those things. Well no, not those things themselves, but learning to deal with those things. Sometimes it takes a bit of creativity, but it's really rewarding. It's going to be very strange to come back to the states and eat whatever I want, in an odorless room, with the a/c on. Just me and other humans. Nothing furry or slimy. Same goes for things like having to take sponge baths when the water's out, or doing laundry by hand and hanging it out to dry. I'll miss it here...

3) The arts culture. Unfortunately I haven't gotten to experience as much of this as I would have liked, but I definitely plan on getting as much as possible. Next week there's another film screening, so hopefully that'll work out better than tonight's did. I'll also get farther into this dance class, which hopefully will have some traditional Senegalese dance in it, and I may try to take a traditional sculpture class once in a while. And there is a great music scene in Saint-Louis, which I definitely plan on experiencing starting this weekend. I got a little of it in Dakar, with the Orchestre Baobab concert and a few live bands at bars. But there is so much left, including I'd really like to see Youssou NDor. It should be great.


Okay, 3 biggest challenges:
1) Being a tubaab. Many a Senegalese person has tried to convince me that this just means a white person, and has no deragatory connotation at all. Bull, if you ask me. Even if they don't mean it as an insult, it really is one. First of all, because the most direct translation I can possibly think of for Tubaab is Outsider. Person who is different. Person who will never be a part of their culture. That's me. Tubaab. And second, because it assigns us a negative identity, rather than a positive one. If they called me Morgan, or even Woman or American, that would be assigning me something substantive as an identity. Instead, I am Tubaab- lack of Senegaleseness. Walking down the street and having little children and men of all ages shouting Tubaab!Tubaab! just doesn't make one feel accepted. Maybe as a circus animal. Or as a potential green card, I don't know. But definitely not as an equal. And not that I don't understand there must be a real history behind all this that I can't understand, especially not yet. But it's hard to get inside the culture and to make real friendships when what matters most is the color of my skin. It's also become more of a problem than just this discomfort- for example, on a walk down the beach, trying to reach Mauritania, me and the 2 girls I was with were hassled at every step by young men being jerks (harmless jerks, I should say), and kids asking for our jewelry or our water bottles. Twice, when we told the kids we couldn't give to them today, they kicked sand at us. And it hurt! Bottom line, race matters a lot.

2) Being a woman. There is an element of male chauvanism here. I don't feel insecure, but there are definitely times when it is very clear what level of respect is afforded to women here (especially white women). Little kids have been obnoxious too. It really shows though in the way we're cat-called, or flat out proposed to. Again, there is an element of cultural relativity here as well- apparently the women expect to be complimented left and right here, so some degree of cat-calling is sincerely trying to be manly and impress us. But not always. But in the end this, along with being a tubaab, is really making me stronger. And on the bright side, at least I'm not French. For once being American is a plus. The French are NOT popular here. Neither is Bush, by the way. Clinton they love. The Arabs they mistrust. Yes, that's all making generalizations, but nobody I've talked to has said differently.

3) The language barrier. My French is fine, but hopefully will get better- and I always wish I could spit things out faster than I am able to (and with better grammar). But my Wolof is still at the total beginner level, understandably. I'm really happy with the speed that I'm learning it all, but it can be frustrating trying to communicate, or worse, being judged based on my ability to communicate. Often, people will try to test us on our Wolof by talking faster and faster and more complexely until we can no longer keep up- then sometimes they'll be really nice and offer pointers, or other times, they'll sort of laugh at us. But it is getting better, and it's incredibly rewarding to even hold the shortest of conversations in Wolof. Or in anything, for that matter.

So, bummer to end with the challenges. But again, that's part of why I love it here.

ps, I'm going to a bird park on Sunday where the last group that went saw an anaconda. How cool is that. And tomorrow I'm going to a debate on democracy and religion. Hopefully next weekend I'll go back to Dakar and catch a soccer game and buy some fabric to have a shirt or dress or something made. And now, on to bed. Mmmmmm.