"African Beach Party"

Because the beach is so close, much of the population of St. Louis relocates to Hydrobase during the day on the weekends. While I enjoy a day at the beach as much as the next person, it begins to lose some of its initial thrill after a while. It doesn’t help that the beaches are filled with litter and people with nothing better to do that harass you. Given this context, I was a little hesitant when Lamine, my friend who I met through work, invited me to an “African beach party.” I should never have doubted him; I think it was the most fun I’ve had here. Some friends and I met Lamine and his friends at the beach in the evening, so the temperature was perfect, especially with the breeze off the ocean. He showed us “how the Senegalese sit,” meaning we dug a huge hole in the sand to put our stuff and our feet in. He then let us mess around with his djiembes (drums) before he and his friends showed us how it’s really done. We watched the sun set to the diembe’s rhythm and the crash of waves.

Sitting around our hole

Lamine and his friends serenading us

The best part of the evening was the ride home. The public transportation system consists primarily of cars rapides: elaborately decorated and highly unsafe buses that are the cause of the majority of vehicular mortalities in Senegal. This was our mode of transport back home. Though the quarters were not as close riding the buses at Duke during peak hours, we were squeezed pretty tight. Nonetheless, Lamine and his friends continued to play. We all sang along to the song he had taught us, and as we passed little kids would start dancing. Though I am continually reminded that I don't belong here, I felt like I was participating in the community and I loved it.

In the car rapide

The beach at sunset. Note the litter, it's such a shame. Before I came I was told the people here treat "the world as their trashcan." It's the sad truth: I've had to yell at my students to throw their waste in trashcans not out the window.

Halfway!

Tuesday marked the half way point of my stay here in Saint Louis. It has come to my attention that it’s been a month and I haven’t written anything about what I’m actually doing here.

My vast majority of my time in Senegal has been devoted to teaching English to students attending the Amadou Bamba summer school. My youngest classes (the 6ième level) are beginners aged 9-11. My 5ième classes are more experienced and entering their more angsty adolescent years. And last but not least, I teach an evening adult class for advanced English speakers. I’ve found it interesting to see the different dynamics of each level, and even of each class, and have come to appreciate my teachers past and present so much more now that I am one.

My morning 6ieme class

Amadou Bamba from the inside

Singing Michael Jackson with my afternoon 5ieme class

Most edifying are my experiences with my advanced class. The group, mostly male, includes university students, religious leaders, teachers, and one UN soldier who was stationed in Darfur. Because these students are nearly fluent, class is mostly organized discussion, so I’ve gotten to hear a Senegalese perspective on a plethora of issues. This discussion has been particularly fruitful because my class represents the full spectrum on many issues, including attitude toward the West and development. I have, however, been struck by their unbending belief in retribution that surfaced during a discussion of the death penalty. It opened my eyes to the fact that a large portion of the world’s population still lives by “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” I prefer Gandhi’s “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” Similarly they refused to any semblance of open-mindedness with regard to gay marriage. Though I feel like I can relate to these students, I cannot forget the ever-present cultural barrier.

In this regard my students have been patient teachers. Students in the 5ieme level have taught me some Wolof (the regional language) and some traditional dance. This week I was invited to an advanced student’s home for a beautiful dinner, where I got to experience Senegal’s fabled hospitality. I’ve also learned a bit about traditional lore, which I would like to share here.

As the story goes, the river is inhabited by a spirit named Mame Coumba Bang. Part woman and part fish, Mame Coumba Bang surfaces to visit the town market. Groceries bought, she heads back to the watery deep to prepare her meal. And sometimes she’ll leave some of the traditional lunch dish by the side of the river, and it’s the best tieboudienne you’ll ever have.