Visit to Mbour Host Family
I spent the first two weeks of February in Thies at the Peace Corps Training Center for my two-week technical In-Service Training (IST). It was the first time I had seen most of my fellow stage-mates (other than those in Kedougou) in about two months.
During our one free day of IST, I took the opportunity to go to Mbour and visit my CBT family with whom I stayed during Pre-Service Training. I called my host mom the night before and told her I would be coming for lunch the next day. She definitely seemed excited on the phone, but not overjoyed. I had forgotten that people pop in for visits all the time in Senegal; visitors are always welcomed and fed, but families here do not plan their day around visitors as some do in the US. I told her I would arrive "before lunch," which is about as specific as times ever get here.
I got out of my car at the garage, feeling like I was taking a trip back in time, and walked toward my fellow volunteers' houses. I stopped in unannounced at two volunteers' host families and at the house where my Jaxanke teacher stayed during PST. The three families were very excited to see me. I was thrilled to have an actual conversation with them; after greeting them daily in broken Jaxanke for two months during PST, it was refreshing to be able to speak more freely. I once more made the 30-minute walk to my host family's house. It was not too hot and the walk through the sandy streets seemed much quicker than it used to.
My host family has made some improvements to their house since I stayed there. The inside walls, which previously were white, are now bright pinks and greens. The rarely-used living room was filled with new chairs and a new couch. My host mom invited me to sit in one of the chairs and we chatted while one of my host brothers, Papa, looked on from the couch. I asked her if I now speak better Jananke than Papa. She said yes, and we all laughed. Just three months ago Papa was teaching me new words as we sat outside and waited for the attaya to boil in the afternoons. After lunch I watched most of an English Premier League soccer game with my host brothers. When the game ended, I moved outside to the yard as one of my sisters was making attaya. My brothers continued to watch as in the next game Chelsea quickly went down 4-0. After two rounds of attaya, it was time for me to depart so that I could make it back to Thies before dark.
I hopped in a car and was back at the garage in just a few minutes. I was the fifth of seven passengers who bought a seat in the minivan, so I was relegated to the back row. I sat for ten minutes before the car was full. We pulled out slowly onto the busy road, then about thirty seconds later we stopped at a gas station, pulling behind a car at the pump. When the car in front of us finished filling up, the driver turned the key to restart the car. It did not start. This is not unusual; I have seen many more rolling starts in Senegal than I have seen in my life prior to Peace Corps. It was a bad sign when the driver opened the hood, but unfortunately this is also not unusual. We pushed the car toward a parking space as the driver repeatedly turned a key--not a sound from the starter. After the ordeal had lasted about twenty minutes, it was clear that major repairs were needed.
We bailed and started walking back toward the garage. I stood nearby as the other passengers from my car argued heatedly with a driver who was trying to charge more than the standard fare for passage to Thies. Eventually another driver willing to charge the standard fare rolled up. I was once again in the back seat with two other people, but this time in a much smaller car. Luckily the ride is only one hour. An action-packed "free day" it was.
During our one free day of IST, I took the opportunity to go to Mbour and visit my CBT family with whom I stayed during Pre-Service Training. I called my host mom the night before and told her I would be coming for lunch the next day. She definitely seemed excited on the phone, but not overjoyed. I had forgotten that people pop in for visits all the time in Senegal; visitors are always welcomed and fed, but families here do not plan their day around visitors as some do in the US. I told her I would arrive "before lunch," which is about as specific as times ever get here.
I got out of my car at the garage, feeling like I was taking a trip back in time, and walked toward my fellow volunteers' houses. I stopped in unannounced at two volunteers' host families and at the house where my Jaxanke teacher stayed during PST. The three families were very excited to see me. I was thrilled to have an actual conversation with them; after greeting them daily in broken Jaxanke for two months during PST, it was refreshing to be able to speak more freely. I once more made the 30-minute walk to my host family's house. It was not too hot and the walk through the sandy streets seemed much quicker than it used to.
My host family has made some improvements to their house since I stayed there. The inside walls, which previously were white, are now bright pinks and greens. The rarely-used living room was filled with new chairs and a new couch. My host mom invited me to sit in one of the chairs and we chatted while one of my host brothers, Papa, looked on from the couch. I asked her if I now speak better Jananke than Papa. She said yes, and we all laughed. Just three months ago Papa was teaching me new words as we sat outside and waited for the attaya to boil in the afternoons. After lunch I watched most of an English Premier League soccer game with my host brothers. When the game ended, I moved outside to the yard as one of my sisters was making attaya. My brothers continued to watch as in the next game Chelsea quickly went down 4-0. After two rounds of attaya, it was time for me to depart so that I could make it back to Thies before dark.
I hopped in a car and was back at the garage in just a few minutes. I was the fifth of seven passengers who bought a seat in the minivan, so I was relegated to the back row. I sat for ten minutes before the car was full. We pulled out slowly onto the busy road, then about thirty seconds later we stopped at a gas station, pulling behind a car at the pump. When the car in front of us finished filling up, the driver turned the key to restart the car. It did not start. This is not unusual; I have seen many more rolling starts in Senegal than I have seen in my life prior to Peace Corps. It was a bad sign when the driver opened the hood, but unfortunately this is also not unusual. We pushed the car toward a parking space as the driver repeatedly turned a key--not a sound from the starter. After the ordeal had lasted about twenty minutes, it was clear that major repairs were needed.
We bailed and started walking back toward the garage. I stood nearby as the other passengers from my car argued heatedly with a driver who was trying to charge more than the standard fare for passage to Thies. Eventually another driver willing to charge the standard fare rolled up. I was once again in the back seat with two other people, but this time in a much smaller car. Luckily the ride is only one hour. An action-packed "free day" it was.
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