no, thats not a typo. thats the title of this post, when you translate it into french...or more specifically write it on a french keyboard like you would on an american one...theyre tough. but on we go.
so i sat at home and wrote a blog post on just exactly how much like an alham the plane im going to take to ghana to visit devon is, thinking that id just put it on my memory key and take it down to the local internet cafe, plug it in, and upload it thanks to the miracles of modern technology. but i arrive at the cafe and find that they (like most things here) dont want to cooperate fully. sure the powers on and the internets running, but the computers dont have usb outlets (theyre that old). even if they did they would be of no use to me since the interface that they use doesnt allow you to open up an external hard drive...so long story short is that you will have to wait till monday to hear all about my upcoming adventure to ghana (i can tell youre on the edge of your seat with anticipation asking yourself "is it dangerous?" "what exactly do a plane and an alham hane in common?" and perhaps most urgently, "will there be goats involved?"
ps did i mention that the title of this post is supposed to be "foiled again!!" i know that its customary to put the title at the beginning of the piece, but ive never been one to let myself get tied down by something as old and stagnant as custom now have i?
the answers await monday (so long as the powers on). untill then inchallah
love;
jqke
(thats "love, jake" in french)
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Update
The good news: I dont have malaria (its official - i was tested).
The bad news: I'm still kind of out of it...cant really sleep past 3.30 am anymore for whatever reason. so im tired. and hot.
oh more good news: i pooed yesterday for the first time in a while (yeah i know too much info but you gotta take the good when it comes here).
just thought id update for anyone who was worrying about my "potential" malaria.
i dont think ill be going anywhere this weekend. gonna try and kick this "stomach flu" that everyone in CIEEs got.
thats all
love
jake
oh ps - maxs comment is the funniest thing that ive read that i havent written (hahahaha just kiding about that last part...but seriously. its funny).
The bad news: I'm still kind of out of it...cant really sleep past 3.30 am anymore for whatever reason. so im tired. and hot.
oh more good news: i pooed yesterday for the first time in a while (yeah i know too much info but you gotta take the good when it comes here).
just thought id update for anyone who was worrying about my "potential" malaria.
i dont think ill be going anywhere this weekend. gonna try and kick this "stomach flu" that everyone in CIEEs got.
thats all
love
jake
oh ps - maxs comment is the funniest thing that ive read that i havent written (hahahaha just kiding about that last part...but seriously. its funny).
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Bakel by the Numbers
So Ian and I went to Bakel this weekend which (sorry for EVERYONE whose already heard this line but it’s the only one I’ve got) is about as far as you can get away from Dakar without leaving Senegal. Let me illustrate for you. If Dakar is here ---->, than Bakel would be all the way over on Karly’s blog. But down at the bottom. Hidden in her archives. All the way at the back and buried somewhere between her first and second battles with the cockroaches (how it got there is beyond me). Along the Senegal river. Next to Mauritania. (Karly’s blog can be found over there by the way ------->).
For lack of a better way to tell this story were going to do it by the numbers…read on fearless adventurers, read on.
Number of hours traveled: 24+
Let’s see how this breaks down…we might need a few more sets of (sub?) numbers to do this right…
Dakar to Kaolak: 4 hours by sept places.
That’s French for station wagon packed with seven people. And the driver. Yeah, It’s cozy. Kind of like everything else in Africa. We spent the night in Kaolack (its kind of a dump – I wouldn’t back unless I had to). Friday morning we left for Tambacounda.
Kaolak to Tambacounda: 6 hours by Alham.
That’s Arabic for a white van (you know the scary kind that’s always seen around murder scenes, bank robberies, and other instances of mass mayhem) packed with people…which brings me to our next number (and our first sub-sub-numbers):
Number of people you can fit in an Alham (driver not included): 20.
There’s only room for 18. But like I said. Africa’s cozy. Kids will sit on anyone’s lap (unless you’re puking). Which brings me to…
Number of times you can puke in 4 hour on an Alham: Five.
No it wasn’t me that was puking. It was the woman I was sitting next to. I can even tell you what she had for lunch (Yassa). Did I mentioned I got puked on? Yeah it was delicious. Ok, so after we got to Tambacounda we left for Bakel.
Tambacounda to Bakel: 3 hours by sept places. As this was the end of our journey there, we’ll move on to the more exciting bits of the weekend.
Number of goals I almost failed to meet this weekend: 2
Coming to Africa I had only two goals: 1) Don’t die, and C) stay out of African jails. As it would happen, I both almost died and got arrested. It’s true. On the trip from Tamba to Bakel we got stopped by a police officer. He checked our papers and even started to search the car. Now while I was doing nothing illegal, my companion, Ian, happens to be in the country without a visa. Which I think means he’s illegal (ohhhh man I hope this doesn’t get him into trouble…). Luckily the police officer thought that his (expired) Mauritanian visa meant that he was up to no trouble and didn’t arrest us. Now I know what you’re thinking, how can twobabs be arrested for one toubab’s bad papers? Well I don’t know but the story is definitely more exciting that way. And that’s what I’m going for here. Now how I almost died.
Coming back to Dakar, I developed a killer headache. I’m talking like there’s a baby T-rex that’s waking up and about to hatch Zeus-style from my forehead (you know you liked that classical Greek reference). Except before hatching babyRex is going to sharpen his claws on my skull. Not fun. Even less fun when your neck gets stiff as an oscillating fan that…well doesn’t oscillate anymore. Even less fun when you’re overheating and feel like your body is about 10000 degrees. After consulting my Lonely Planet, I decided that I had either a bad case of dehydration (I guess a 3 hour hike through the African desert without so much as a bottle of water will do that to you) and/or malaria and/or heatstroke. Which pretty much is not what you want to happen in Africa. Luckily I feel better now and am (for the moment) still alive and kicking (though thankfully the babyRex isn’t). But that’s the reason you’re all getting this post on Tuesday and not Monday. Cause yesterday I felt like I was going to give birth through my forehead.
On a related note: everyone at CIEE seemed to be sick yesterday (Monday). Am I the only one that thinks that this, while sucking a whole whole lot, is really funny at the same time? I mean what are the odds? Seriously there were like 15 kids who weren’t even in class, another three or four who left early (I myself came in late), and I think I only met one girl who wasn’t sick. Seriously. It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.
Number of goats you can fit on a sept place: 10+
This is one of the things that goes under the heading “craziest things I’ve ever seen.” En route from Bakel to Tambacounda (on the way back home) we stopped on the side of the road to pick up a couple of passenger (we had an extra place in the car and well I guess the driver needed the money). No problem right? Except we see that they’ve got about 12 suitcases with them. There’s no way they can fit all that stuff in the car. Its gonna have to go on top. So they cram as much of the suitcases as they can in the trunk and load the rest on top of the car (no problem, there’s a rack for that exact purpose).
Then come the goats. One by one. Ian and I are sitting in the car as they bring the goats from behind a tree or under a hat or somewhere crazy and start heaving them up on top of the car. We’re counting…four…five…six. That’s it right? They can’t put anymore up there. Well, they can. And they did. I have to say I didn’t think they could fit all those suitcases and 10 goats in/on the car. But the driver did it. And here’s the kicker…if it weren’t for the suitcases that were on the top, there could have easily been 15+ goats up there. And that’s a conservative estimate. Again…the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.
Number of times I almost got goat peed/spat on: 15
The goats only peed twice (thankfully) and (thankfully) the guys in front had the smarts to close the windows (an Alhumdulilaa if I’ve ever used one). But there was one goat who must not have liked very much the taste of car exhaust (lord knows why) and would spit every 10-15 minutes. We’re not talking little lugies either. We’re talking cover the window in spit. I mean this goat had volume. It was nuts.
Number of showers taken: 0
No, that’s not a typo. Zero showers taken. In four days. Not to mention I didn’t have a change of clothes. Saying that I was filthy is so much of an understatement its ridiculous. I mean I had been puked on (though it was only a little bit…and on my pants too..but still), almost goat peed/spat on, not to mention that Bakel is right up next to the desert which means its really dusty and really hot. Which means that not only did I sweat like the fat kid in gym class, but the dust would kick up and stick to me. When I got back home and finally took a shower, it wasn’t until my third washing with soap and water that the water ran off me cleanish. Like I said. I’m talking dirty. Even Devon wouldn’t have touched me. I was that gross. I didn’t even want to touch me.
Number of people that can ride the bike that my dad just bought: 2 (at the same time!)
Yes, that’s right. My dad just bought a bike built for two. This one goes under the heading of “greatest things my dad’s found at a yardsale” right up there with that painting of the dude in the sombrero and all the other ridiculously awesome stuff he’s bought that my mom wants to throw away. I know you’re jealous. Now Devon and I can ride down the street singing that song that goes something like “and then we’ll meet along the street on a bicycle built for two.” So how about it Devon? You bring your helmet, I’ll bring the bike…and then we’ll meet…Along the street…With our bicycle built for two…
(wait, did he really just try and pull that?)
Alright, that’s it for the numbers. Check out my pictures later this week (the link is over there ----->). I’ll update them on Thursday inchallah.
Love,
Jake
PS – on a completely unrelated note…Michael Jackson’s “Number One’s” album is probably the greatest thing that has yet to be unleashed in Africa. Especially “Thriller.” Best. Song. Ever.
For lack of a better way to tell this story were going to do it by the numbers…read on fearless adventurers, read on.
Number of hours traveled: 24+
Let’s see how this breaks down…we might need a few more sets of (sub?) numbers to do this right…
Dakar to Kaolak: 4 hours by sept places.
That’s French for station wagon packed with seven people. And the driver. Yeah, It’s cozy. Kind of like everything else in Africa. We spent the night in Kaolack (its kind of a dump – I wouldn’t back unless I had to). Friday morning we left for Tambacounda.
Kaolak to Tambacounda: 6 hours by Alham.
That’s Arabic for a white van (you know the scary kind that’s always seen around murder scenes, bank robberies, and other instances of mass mayhem) packed with people…which brings me to our next number (and our first sub-sub-numbers):
Number of people you can fit in an Alham (driver not included): 20.
There’s only room for 18. But like I said. Africa’s cozy. Kids will sit on anyone’s lap (unless you’re puking). Which brings me to…
Number of times you can puke in 4 hour on an Alham: Five.
No it wasn’t me that was puking. It was the woman I was sitting next to. I can even tell you what she had for lunch (Yassa). Did I mentioned I got puked on? Yeah it was delicious. Ok, so after we got to Tambacounda we left for Bakel.
Tambacounda to Bakel: 3 hours by sept places. As this was the end of our journey there, we’ll move on to the more exciting bits of the weekend.
Number of goals I almost failed to meet this weekend: 2
Coming to Africa I had only two goals: 1) Don’t die, and C) stay out of African jails. As it would happen, I both almost died and got arrested. It’s true. On the trip from Tamba to Bakel we got stopped by a police officer. He checked our papers and even started to search the car. Now while I was doing nothing illegal, my companion, Ian, happens to be in the country without a visa. Which I think means he’s illegal (ohhhh man I hope this doesn’t get him into trouble…). Luckily the police officer thought that his (expired) Mauritanian visa meant that he was up to no trouble and didn’t arrest us. Now I know what you’re thinking, how can twobabs be arrested for one toubab’s bad papers? Well I don’t know but the story is definitely more exciting that way. And that’s what I’m going for here. Now how I almost died.
Coming back to Dakar, I developed a killer headache. I’m talking like there’s a baby T-rex that’s waking up and about to hatch Zeus-style from my forehead (you know you liked that classical Greek reference). Except before hatching babyRex is going to sharpen his claws on my skull. Not fun. Even less fun when your neck gets stiff as an oscillating fan that…well doesn’t oscillate anymore. Even less fun when you’re overheating and feel like your body is about 10000 degrees. After consulting my Lonely Planet, I decided that I had either a bad case of dehydration (I guess a 3 hour hike through the African desert without so much as a bottle of water will do that to you) and/or malaria and/or heatstroke. Which pretty much is not what you want to happen in Africa. Luckily I feel better now and am (for the moment) still alive and kicking (though thankfully the babyRex isn’t). But that’s the reason you’re all getting this post on Tuesday and not Monday. Cause yesterday I felt like I was going to give birth through my forehead.
On a related note: everyone at CIEE seemed to be sick yesterday (Monday). Am I the only one that thinks that this, while sucking a whole whole lot, is really funny at the same time? I mean what are the odds? Seriously there were like 15 kids who weren’t even in class, another three or four who left early (I myself came in late), and I think I only met one girl who wasn’t sick. Seriously. It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.
Number of goats you can fit on a sept place: 10+
This is one of the things that goes under the heading “craziest things I’ve ever seen.” En route from Bakel to Tambacounda (on the way back home) we stopped on the side of the road to pick up a couple of passenger (we had an extra place in the car and well I guess the driver needed the money). No problem right? Except we see that they’ve got about 12 suitcases with them. There’s no way they can fit all that stuff in the car. Its gonna have to go on top. So they cram as much of the suitcases as they can in the trunk and load the rest on top of the car (no problem, there’s a rack for that exact purpose).
Then come the goats. One by one. Ian and I are sitting in the car as they bring the goats from behind a tree or under a hat or somewhere crazy and start heaving them up on top of the car. We’re counting…four…five…six. That’s it right? They can’t put anymore up there. Well, they can. And they did. I have to say I didn’t think they could fit all those suitcases and 10 goats in/on the car. But the driver did it. And here’s the kicker…if it weren’t for the suitcases that were on the top, there could have easily been 15+ goats up there. And that’s a conservative estimate. Again…the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.
Number of times I almost got goat peed/spat on: 15
The goats only peed twice (thankfully) and (thankfully) the guys in front had the smarts to close the windows (an Alhumdulilaa if I’ve ever used one). But there was one goat who must not have liked very much the taste of car exhaust (lord knows why) and would spit every 10-15 minutes. We’re not talking little lugies either. We’re talking cover the window in spit. I mean this goat had volume. It was nuts.
Number of showers taken: 0
No, that’s not a typo. Zero showers taken. In four days. Not to mention I didn’t have a change of clothes. Saying that I was filthy is so much of an understatement its ridiculous. I mean I had been puked on (though it was only a little bit…and on my pants too..but still), almost goat peed/spat on, not to mention that Bakel is right up next to the desert which means its really dusty and really hot. Which means that not only did I sweat like the fat kid in gym class, but the dust would kick up and stick to me. When I got back home and finally took a shower, it wasn’t until my third washing with soap and water that the water ran off me cleanish. Like I said. I’m talking dirty. Even Devon wouldn’t have touched me. I was that gross. I didn’t even want to touch me.
Number of people that can ride the bike that my dad just bought: 2 (at the same time!)
Yes, that’s right. My dad just bought a bike built for two. This one goes under the heading of “greatest things my dad’s found at a yardsale” right up there with that painting of the dude in the sombrero and all the other ridiculously awesome stuff he’s bought that my mom wants to throw away. I know you’re jealous. Now Devon and I can ride down the street singing that song that goes something like “and then we’ll meet along the street on a bicycle built for two.” So how about it Devon? You bring your helmet, I’ll bring the bike…and then we’ll meet…Along the street…With our bicycle built for two…
(wait, did he really just try and pull that?)
Alright, that’s it for the numbers. Check out my pictures later this week (the link is over there ----->). I’ll update them on Thursday inchallah.
Love,
Jake
PS – on a completely unrelated note…Michael Jackson’s “Number One’s” album is probably the greatest thing that has yet to be unleashed in Africa. Especially “Thriller.” Best. Song. Ever.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Do you mind if we dance wif yo dates?
So I’m reading Karly’s blog yesterday (or rather today…I’m posting this tomorrow in what is sure to be a confusing mélange of verb tenses), and I feel the need to add my two cents (or one and a half cents – that’s about all they’re worth) about this whole “cultural assimilation” bit that they’re trying to feed us.
I will say that I wasn’t wholly unprepared for the fact that I would never fit in: after all I am the kid who wanted to repeat Otter from Animal House’s famous line when they step into the bar where Otis Day and the Nights are playing – you know the scene – when the band stops playing and everyone in the bar turns and stares: “Boone, we’re the only white people here.”
Unfortunately, two rather large obstructions got in the way of my moment of comic genious upon stepping off the airplane: 1) there was nobody in my immediate vicinity who would have cared, thought it was witty, clever, funny, or even knew what the hell I was talking about and c) we weren’t, in fact “the only white people here.”
No,
For rather obvious reasons, no matter how hard I try, I won’t be able to become “one of the locals.” It’s rather unsettling always getting weird looks (“you lost?” tends to be read in the faces of people walking down the streets), but I had resigned myself before coming here to the fact that everything I had learned back in the sixth grade about how to blend into crowds to avoid getting beat to a pulp by eighth graders would in Dakar be about as useful as a sequined winter parka. That is to say it would only be of use in our inevitable escape from an African prison. (Confused? So am I. Somewhere in one of the first posts I think I explain the whole sequin thing if you really care that much. If not, and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, read on.)
No matter how much Wolof I eventually learn, people will always revert to French when meeting me. I’m starting to shake the feeling that people are only talking to me because they think I have money, but I feel that that will always be in the back of my mind when a stranger comes up to me on the street and says “Do you need a guide?” I fear that merchants will always hassle me when I go downtown, no matter how savvy I may be about negotiating
It seems that the only hope for myself and my fellow toubabs from CIEE lies in the aforementioned sizable toubab population of
I guess that is the question that I am here to answer.
Love
Jake
Monday, September 18, 2006
Cheibudjen in Paradise
You know...like the Jimmy Buffett song "Cheesburgers in Paradise" only they don't have cheesburgers here and as much as I hate to say it Dakar is far from paradise. Read Karly's blog to find out more. She's better at tackling serious subjects like the inability to assimilate culturally than I am. And rude awakenings.
It can be found over there --------->
But onwards we bravely travel. This weekend we visited Africa's answer to Hawaii. or the Florida keys. Or Heaven: Toubab Dialow. Its a little village on the coast south of Dakar. And its Paradise. thats right. With a capital "P."
The beaches were gorgeous, not crowded (!!!), and clean. The hotel was rediculously romantic (i think karly said disgustingly romantic...and that about sums it up), kinda crazy looking and overlooked the cliffs. My room was au bord de la mer (thats french for SEASIDE AND SEA VIEW!!!) and i shared it with some delightful people. The weather was perfect. It barely rained while we were there, the sun was hot the water was warm, and the breeze was gentle. the waves in the ocean were big enough to be almost scary, but made for some excellent body surfing without breaking you and making you plea for mercy, uncle, or cry for your mommy when faced with the awesome wrath that is mother nature's awesome power and might. I came back home a lot tanner and exhausteder.
But this is still Africa, and no matter how perfect a place might seem, there's always something that goes amiss. Let's start from the beginning:
The ride there: The thing about drivers in africa is that nobody really knows where things are. sure they've got a general idea where toubab dialow is (somewhere that way by that place with the thing), but then they look at the 10 toubabs sitting in the back of his van who stare at him blankly when asked if this is the turn to the hotel or will this road plunge us all into a horrible firey death at the hands of the African escarpment? (at least i think thats what he asked). Apparently all of Dakar takes the one dirt road out of the city on fridays at 11am so it should have been no surprise really to find that there were a million other cars going where we wanted to go. and i know i might be repeating myself but in Africa where theres room for one person you can be damned sure that there will be three people there. this is a fine (albeit somewhat cramped) philosophy when dealing with personal space but the thing about cars is that well...you try to put two cars in the same space and youget whats known as a fender-bender. or to be more specific two fender-benders. within 100 feet of each other (i'm not making this up...that distance is accurate. we measured). but thankfully this place is an ambulance chaser's nightmare (nobody particularly cares about petty accidents like that) so after making sure that the lights still worked (though that might be an optimistic assessment of what the driver did when he got out of the car - at least he got out of the car and pretended to check for damage) we were on our merry way again. we arrived without further incident.
though i must mention - the brake signal - you know the red light that tells drivers behind you that the car is stopping..i know its usually custom to put it on the outside of the car so iwas more than a little surprised to find that it was actually on the inside of our bus there...
Now I know I've said that my room was practically perfect (like Mary Poppins...and you Mom - I'm so cute its disgusting). But the operative word in that sentence is pratically. Practically means no running water. Practically means that the very concept of running water is perhaps a misnomer. Perhaps walking water would better describe the state of water pressure. Or sauntering. Or moseying. But definetly not running. Practically means mosquitos inside the mosquito net (though I will say they at least gave us mosquito nets). Practically means my "bed" is a piece of foam on a shelf of rocks (though we did get bedsheets, and a blanket - though i couldnt say why when the temperature at night is easily 80-90 degrees).
Don't let this think I'm going through a hostile phase. I truly enjoyed every second I was there. Maybe it's saying something about how I've changed that I can go to a place like this and find it in me to love every minute I spend there enough to guarantee that I will go back, even though there's no running water. You know? I mean I'd like to think that this represents some sort of paradigm-shattering change within me. That I have grown enough as a person not to thrive in a situation where the water casually ambles out of the faucet, not runs, where mosquito-proof isn't an actual requirement for being a mosquito net.
But let's be honest with ourselves here. This was about as close to paradise as I'm going to get in a long time. The whole time I kept asking myself - What are we doing here? We're college kids. We don't belong in a room au bord de la mer! We belong in stinky, cramped dorm rooms! We're rowdy, rambunctious, damn college kids! We dont belong in a place thats so tranquil that dogs and cats can eat together, sharing the brotherly food of cheibudjen together, out of the same bowl! This is probably the weirdest thing I've seen - I still don't believe my eyes and wish I could have taken a picture because it really happened and I know you don't believe me. Cause let's face it. Dogs and cats eating together...out of the same bowl...without killing each other? It's the kind of think that only happens in dreams.
Don't wake me up.
Love,
Jake
Oh yeah, ps pictures will be up tomorrow inchallah. Find them by following the picture link over there ------>
It can be found over there --------->
But onwards we bravely travel. This weekend we visited Africa's answer to Hawaii. or the Florida keys. Or Heaven: Toubab Dialow. Its a little village on the coast south of Dakar. And its Paradise. thats right. With a capital "P."
The beaches were gorgeous, not crowded (!!!), and clean. The hotel was rediculously romantic (i think karly said disgustingly romantic...and that about sums it up), kinda crazy looking and overlooked the cliffs. My room was au bord de la mer (thats french for SEASIDE AND SEA VIEW!!!) and i shared it with some delightful people. The weather was perfect. It barely rained while we were there, the sun was hot the water was warm, and the breeze was gentle. the waves in the ocean were big enough to be almost scary, but made for some excellent body surfing without breaking you and making you plea for mercy, uncle, or cry for your mommy when faced with the awesome wrath that is mother nature's awesome power and might. I came back home a lot tanner and exhausteder.
But this is still Africa, and no matter how perfect a place might seem, there's always something that goes amiss. Let's start from the beginning:
The ride there: The thing about drivers in africa is that nobody really knows where things are. sure they've got a general idea where toubab dialow is (somewhere that way by that place with the thing), but then they look at the 10 toubabs sitting in the back of his van who stare at him blankly when asked if this is the turn to the hotel or will this road plunge us all into a horrible firey death at the hands of the African escarpment? (at least i think thats what he asked). Apparently all of Dakar takes the one dirt road out of the city on fridays at 11am so it should have been no surprise really to find that there were a million other cars going where we wanted to go. and i know i might be repeating myself but in Africa where theres room for one person you can be damned sure that there will be three people there. this is a fine (albeit somewhat cramped) philosophy when dealing with personal space but the thing about cars is that well...you try to put two cars in the same space and youget whats known as a fender-bender. or to be more specific two fender-benders. within 100 feet of each other (i'm not making this up...that distance is accurate. we measured). but thankfully this place is an ambulance chaser's nightmare (nobody particularly cares about petty accidents like that) so after making sure that the lights still worked (though that might be an optimistic assessment of what the driver did when he got out of the car - at least he got out of the car and pretended to check for damage) we were on our merry way again. we arrived without further incident.
though i must mention - the brake signal - you know the red light that tells drivers behind you that the car is stopping..i know its usually custom to put it on the outside of the car so iwas more than a little surprised to find that it was actually on the inside of our bus there...
Now I know I've said that my room was practically perfect (like Mary Poppins...and you Mom - I'm so cute its disgusting). But the operative word in that sentence is pratically. Practically means no running water. Practically means that the very concept of running water is perhaps a misnomer. Perhaps walking water would better describe the state of water pressure. Or sauntering. Or moseying. But definetly not running. Practically means mosquitos inside the mosquito net (though I will say they at least gave us mosquito nets). Practically means my "bed" is a piece of foam on a shelf of rocks (though we did get bedsheets, and a blanket - though i couldnt say why when the temperature at night is easily 80-90 degrees).
Don't let this think I'm going through a hostile phase. I truly enjoyed every second I was there. Maybe it's saying something about how I've changed that I can go to a place like this and find it in me to love every minute I spend there enough to guarantee that I will go back, even though there's no running water. You know? I mean I'd like to think that this represents some sort of paradigm-shattering change within me. That I have grown enough as a person not to thrive in a situation where the water casually ambles out of the faucet, not runs, where mosquito-proof isn't an actual requirement for being a mosquito net.
But let's be honest with ourselves here. This was about as close to paradise as I'm going to get in a long time. The whole time I kept asking myself - What are we doing here? We're college kids. We don't belong in a room au bord de la mer! We belong in stinky, cramped dorm rooms! We're rowdy, rambunctious, damn college kids! We dont belong in a place thats so tranquil that dogs and cats can eat together, sharing the brotherly food of cheibudjen together, out of the same bowl! This is probably the weirdest thing I've seen - I still don't believe my eyes and wish I could have taken a picture because it really happened and I know you don't believe me. Cause let's face it. Dogs and cats eating together...out of the same bowl...without killing each other? It's the kind of think that only happens in dreams.
Don't wake me up.
Love,
Jake
Oh yeah, ps pictures will be up tomorrow inchallah. Find them by following the picture link over there ------>
Thursday, September 14, 2006
See I can be serious too!
The rains lifted and the sky was clear. The heat was still oppressive, but the dust that had choked the air for days had been washed out completely.
The expedition began.
Who am I kidding? I can't write this.
Its supposed to be a story comparing my journey to school today to an expedition through africa...wading across raging rivers, being turned back by lakes so big you couldnt see to the other side (by the way it rained last night)...you know Heart of Darkness style - but i just cant bring myself to do it. For one thing I hated HoD. for another, i dont think i could write "and we entered into the heart. of the darkness. it truly was dark. we were in its heart. a dark, cold, black heart." a million times. So sorry to all you Joseph Conrad fans out there (you know...I actually had to look his name up) but if you want that..well i hear libraries are open. cause i just cant do it.
love
jake
The expedition began.
Who am I kidding? I can't write this.
Its supposed to be a story comparing my journey to school today to an expedition through africa...wading across raging rivers, being turned back by lakes so big you couldnt see to the other side (by the way it rained last night)...you know Heart of Darkness style - but i just cant bring myself to do it. For one thing I hated HoD. for another, i dont think i could write "and we entered into the heart. of the darkness. it truly was dark. we were in its heart. a dark, cold, black heart." a million times. So sorry to all you Joseph Conrad fans out there (you know...I actually had to look his name up) but if you want that..well i hear libraries are open. cause i just cant do it.
love
jake
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
notes from my notebook
Well I figured that since I only posted once last week, I'd bombard you all with posts this week. In today's installment: things that interested me enough to make a note of, but not enough to put in a post.
But first...I updated my pictures which you can see by clicking the link on the right over there ----->
Now this list of things that were interesting enough to write down but not interesting enough to put in a blog will all come out now.
We'll start from the beginning: the plane trip
Air France coffee - STRONG (is it because it's French?)
Almost as soon as I arrived in paris, i started thinking in french - weird
Des que jue suis arrive a paris, jai pense en francais
The smell - smells like our house here used to...smells like France...musty?? mouldy??
Dakar - 1st impressions
Landing was a little hard..."whoops ground came up a little faster there"
turned lights off in cabin for landing...dark runway. (i'm not gonna lie it was a little freaky)
shanty town may have been passed on our final approach (i know think it was the shanty town that i pass every day on my way to school...)
other things: le viking - good food, good tunes, good beer, good peeps
Goals for Senegal trip:
dont die
stay out of african jail
Things to write about:
thats all
love
jake
But first...I updated my pictures which you can see by clicking the link on the right over there ----->
Now this list of things that were interesting enough to write down but not interesting enough to put in a blog will all come out now.
We'll start from the beginning: the plane trip
Air France coffee - STRONG (is it because it's French?)
Almost as soon as I arrived in paris, i started thinking in french - weird
Des que jue suis arrive a paris, jai pense en francais
The smell - smells like our house here used to...smells like France...musty?? mouldy??
Dakar - 1st impressions
Landing was a little hard..."whoops ground came up a little faster there"
turned lights off in cabin for landing...dark runway. (i'm not gonna lie it was a little freaky)
shanty town may have been passed on our final approach (i know think it was the shanty town that i pass every day on my way to school...)
other things: le viking - good food, good tunes, good beer, good peeps
Goals for Senegal trip:
dont die
stay out of african jail
Things to write about:
- doing evening prayers with the little brothers (an interesting cross cultural experience...i was doing them again later and my aunt came up..looked at me...looked at the maid...looked back at me...and then her and the maid broke out laughing. i dont appreciate being the butt of jokes that i can't laugh at too...)
- all the white people at the supermarket in downtown (le score) - its really quite obvious that toubabs like shopping at certain places - mostly these places are large, clean and air conditioned.
- politricks (no...not a typo)
- 3rd world tech: vhs @ cult & soc. class --> the computer lab
- It's always good to know that no matter where you are in the world, you can always find the Kama Sutra in english (yes...another toubab place)
- The saddest thing i've seen so far - a guy doing his afternoon prayers on a cardboard box instead of a rug
- the funniest thing ive seen so far - guys washing their taxicabs - the people dont care enough to pick up the trash thats strewn all across the street but they'll meticulously wash their cabs?? (though i have to admit they did look pretty darn clean)
- the chair renting business being run out of Hannah's house (her name's a palindrome AND you can rent chairs from her!)
- Freaking camels down the road from le regal - but the weird one that we noticed is the ones in the cage behind the fence, not the one tied to the post...i guess this is africa.
thats all
love
jake
Monday, September 11, 2006
How to avoid being Sacrificed
So it's Monday and I'm posting and that can only mean one thing: Jake survived yet another weekend and the power is (knock on wood) still on. (PS - I'm terrified of writing that last sentence - especially the bit about the power - because it seems like everytime I say something like that the power goes out).
After almost getting killed (twice) by the Great African Escarpment (a note to geography students - the escarpment is very real and very very scary), making this mellinium's greatest archeological discovery (or maybe not), and hanging out under Africa (yes, I've been under a continent - you jealous?), Saturday's manifestation (that's French for manifestation) looked like it would be a piece of cake. Delicious chocolate fudge cake with a tall glass of ice cold milk (not that I'm missing American food or anything...).
The thing about Africa, though, is that there is no cake. Milk's very hard to come by too. So I was out of luck.
So Saturday night Brinan (my toubab cousin) and myself put on African/Muslim garb (the kind that we borrowed from our brothers) and some sandals and walked to the manifestation. Things are going along just splendiferioucly (no comment): guys are singing what I'm told was verses from the Koran, little kids are sitting in the middle of the tent with their shoes off, tea (or maybe it was really sugared up coffee) is passed around and we all partake in the general merriment. Then some guy starts talking Wolof. With my much less than splendid command of even the most basic greetings, this is (understandebly - sp???) a bit difficult to follow.
Then things start to get interesting.
A goat is brought out into the center of the tent. Without any gory details, his head ends up on the floor, blood spattering everywhere, and I'm eating raw goats meat (wait, I thought he said no gory details?)
Then a bull is brought out. Same result.
Then the marabout starts looking around the crowd. Uh oh. His eyes dart from person to person. He looks at my little brother. He looks at my toubab cousin. He looks at me.
He gives a little smile.
"Time to go" I say.
And that's exactly what happened. Well, almost all of it. Everything except for the part about the goat. And the bull. And the marabout and me (ps - do you ever get annoyed with my constant lying and then the "oh wait im lying" trick i pull??). Truth be told, it was kinda interesting, and probably would have been more interesting if I had understood more of it.
Oh but this is true. I swear to it.
We're walking to our adventures with the escarpment and I notice something that strikes me as odd...a bunch of bulls and a few camels are penned up on the side of the road. Then I look closer and see that theres a camel tied to a post. You know, like horses in the wild wild west. except this was a camel. and were in one of Africa's largest metropolitan areas. And here is a petting zoo that was apparently visited by some bedouin cowboy. Like I said...Africa's different.
So its later that afternoon (after escaping the escarpment) that were walking along the road back home and we notice that soem of the camels and cows are missing. In their places are piles. of meat. chunks of meat. theyve got pots fired up and are apparently cooking the meat (im actually really upset that i didn't ask for some...meat here is delicious - camel or otherwise).
Apparently I'm holding up some people's lunch plans (though why they would want to dine with me is beyond me). That's my adventure filled weekend - look for pictures tomorrow (inchallah - which means God (and probably more importantly electricity) willing).
Love
Jake
After almost getting killed (twice) by the Great African Escarpment (a note to geography students - the escarpment is very real and very very scary), making this mellinium's greatest archeological discovery (or maybe not), and hanging out under Africa (yes, I've been under a continent - you jealous?), Saturday's manifestation (that's French for manifestation) looked like it would be a piece of cake. Delicious chocolate fudge cake with a tall glass of ice cold milk (not that I'm missing American food or anything...).
The thing about Africa, though, is that there is no cake. Milk's very hard to come by too. So I was out of luck.
So Saturday night Brinan (my toubab cousin) and myself put on African/Muslim garb (the kind that we borrowed from our brothers) and some sandals and walked to the manifestation. Things are going along just splendiferioucly (no comment): guys are singing what I'm told was verses from the Koran, little kids are sitting in the middle of the tent with their shoes off, tea (or maybe it was really sugared up coffee) is passed around and we all partake in the general merriment. Then some guy starts talking Wolof. With my much less than splendid command of even the most basic greetings, this is (understandebly - sp???) a bit difficult to follow.
Then things start to get interesting.
A goat is brought out into the center of the tent. Without any gory details, his head ends up on the floor, blood spattering everywhere, and I'm eating raw goats meat (wait, I thought he said no gory details?)
Then a bull is brought out. Same result.
Then the marabout starts looking around the crowd. Uh oh. His eyes dart from person to person. He looks at my little brother. He looks at my toubab cousin. He looks at me.
He gives a little smile.
"Time to go" I say.
And that's exactly what happened. Well, almost all of it. Everything except for the part about the goat. And the bull. And the marabout and me (ps - do you ever get annoyed with my constant lying and then the "oh wait im lying" trick i pull??). Truth be told, it was kinda interesting, and probably would have been more interesting if I had understood more of it.
Oh but this is true. I swear to it.
We're walking to our adventures with the escarpment and I notice something that strikes me as odd...a bunch of bulls and a few camels are penned up on the side of the road. Then I look closer and see that theres a camel tied to a post. You know, like horses in the wild wild west. except this was a camel. and were in one of Africa's largest metropolitan areas. And here is a petting zoo that was apparently visited by some bedouin cowboy. Like I said...Africa's different.
So its later that afternoon (after escaping the escarpment) that were walking along the road back home and we notice that soem of the camels and cows are missing. In their places are piles. of meat. chunks of meat. theyve got pots fired up and are apparently cooking the meat (im actually really upset that i didn't ask for some...meat here is delicious - camel or otherwise).
Apparently I'm holding up some people's lunch plans (though why they would want to dine with me is beyond me). That's my adventure filled weekend - look for pictures tomorrow (inchallah - which means God (and probably more importantly electricity) willing).
Love
Jake
Monday, September 04, 2006
Everything is cooler in Africa
::I edited this post. Mostly just the end of it. I had to clean it up somewhat because, well I was a little bit rushed when finishing it before::
Back from the weekend and I think I can say one thing with pretty much certain definitivity (yeah im making up words again): Africa is the just like the western world, except if you turned it (stay with me here) upside-down, inside-out, frontwards-backwards, leftwards-rightwards, threw it all in a blender, blended until mushy, froze that, then thawed it and mixed it with some tabasco sauce for a little heat and spice.
Still with me? Too bad. I'll illustrate with a few examples from this weekend (which might have been one of the coolest three days of my life...)
We'll start from the beginning: Friday.
It must be mentioned that when we went into Dakar the first weekend, my friends and I noticed a sign on the side of a road across the street from a group of goats eating cardboard boxes from a pile of trash overlooking the temperate waters of the tropical Atlantic (yeah and that's not the weirdest thing I've observed here). This sign was for "L'Oceanarium," a business (I guess, I mean I don't really know what else to call it) that specialized in taking people on all sorts of maritime adventures from kayak renting to boat rides to scuba diving. Yes, Scuba diving AND kayaking. At the same place. So my friends and I resolved to return in a week and go scuba diving because well what else am I going to do with my weekend right? For the rest of the week, as we told our friends back at school about this idea every conversation went like this (and though I do have exaggerative tendancies, here I am not kidding, every.single.conversation.):
Them: Scuba diving, huh? that's pretty cool.
Me: yeah man i know seriously right?
them: are you licensed to go?
me: no
them: dont you need to be?
me: come on, this is africa! no rules here (its true..there arent. I checked).
them: wow. thats really cool. dont die!
me: well ill see what i can do.
Fast forward to last Friday around 3.30pm. I'm floating on the bottom of the tropical atlantic ocean under 20 feet of salt water. a crazy french guy named "michele" is grabbing onto my friend's back while his crazy french girlfriend is grabbing onto mine.
scuba diving was probably one of the coolest things ive ever done, and to be honest i cant wait to go back (oh and i will be going back - sorry mom). its crazy. and french. only without the stench of body odor. you know i never really realized how much effort they put into those tropical fish exibits at the aquarium because thats exactly what i felt like i was swimming through. to be honest the whole thing felt kind of artificial and i had to remind myself every now and then that yes, i was in fact in africa. under water. strapped to a tank of air. being held up (or down depending on my boyancy at that particular moment) by a crazy french girl. looking at tropical fish.
i saw so many different types of life ill give you a partial list here (please note these are the lay-person's name for them so you guys can understand exactly what it was i saw - you know the point of a writer is to paint a picture in the head of his readers and its hard to get a picture of fishicius biggius):
sea urchins
big yellow fish
little yellow fish
little blue fish
fish with all sorts of rainbows on their backs
Dory from Finding Nemo (evidently she forgot she found him - i had to remind her where australia was too)
starfish
starfish eating sea urchins
that evil octopus lady's eels from the little mermaid
weird french guy
weird french guys girlfriend
two toubabs (would that be...dare i say it...twobabs?)
Welcome to Africa.
And that was just Friday. We shall press onwards to saturday.
Saturday:
Saturday we got to go to the Senegal vs. Mozambique football match (thats what they call a soccer game in Africa). It was really cool. Senegal Won 2-0. it was amazing. i wanna go back. But two things really stuck out.
1) how truly easy it is to find 5 toubabs when there surrounded by 50.000 screaming african fans. i mean you might think this would be difficult finding five people in 50.000 but toubabs have a tendency to...how you say...stick out a little bit.
2) how even going to the bathroom is cooler than in the states.
there must be only one bathroom in the entire stadium because every male in the stadium was trying to get through that one 2 foot wide door. it was pandemonium. people tyring to get in, people trying to get out. people trying to just stand there and block everyones way. cats, dogs, goats eating cardboard (still, it wasnt the weirdest thing ive observed while here). once you finally manage to fight your way in, you enter the bathroom to find people lined up at the stalls, rather calmly. its a stark contrast from the chaos that you must endure on youre way into the bathroom. so you wait in line for your turn to pee into the turkish toilet (thats a fancy name for a hole in the ground).
but as ive begun to learn in africa, wherever there is room for one person, there will be two people occupying that space. apparently, even toilets. so there you are standing in a turkish toilet, bumping elbows, hips, heads, shoulders, whatever, with a complete stranger, while you both are trying to pee down the same 2 inch hole in the ground (which is standing 5 feet away it might be noted), while trying to not pee on your own feet as well as avoid your...neighbors (somehow that just doesnt convey the sense of...intimacy inherent in the act).
did i mention i had a pigeon in my pocket for dinner?
Welcome to Africa.
Blaze onwards to Sunday:
Sunday is the fabled Goree trip, a trip that nobody was looking forward to, but everyone loved (by everyone, i mean really only me as far as i know - though i do think that others are going to be returning with me). goree is basically this island. its beautiful. look for pictures later this week or read karly's blog over there ------>
but thats not the fun part. the fun part was that morning, before we left (karly i dont mean to steal your thunder, but i think this story deserves to be told a million times):
It starts like any other morning. I met hannah and laurie (my toubaba neighbors) and we went to go to collect brinan (my toubab cousin). on the way over to brinans, hannah asks me "do you think its going to rain? should i bring a raincoat?"
I look up at the sky, pause for a second, and act decisively: "nahh..you probably wont need it"
the timing of this cannot be overstated, for as soon as i finished those words the sky laughed at me.
this i swear is true. it laughed.
right on cue, raindrops started to fall.
"should i go back and get it?" hannah asks. were at brinans house by now.
"nah, itll stop soon" i assured her.
apparently the sky thinks im a funny guy, because it laughed. it guffawed. it was like a little kid watching by tom and jerry cartoons.
it started to pour.
"maybe it would be a good idea,' i conceded. of course by this point it was already too late, and running back to the house to fetch a raincoat would involve a short jog followed by a swim through the sea of brinans house followed by the river that leads to my house. followed by another short sprint inside.
so it rains. we catch a cab to school. were waiting for everyone to show up and karly notices a bulge in my raincoat pocket (no its not what youre thinking).
whats that? she asked.
i reveal a piece of baguette filled with greyish-brownish goop wrapped in computer paper.
oh its my pigeon sandwich. my mom made it with leftovers from last night. i didnt really like it (i mean it was kinda funky tasting and the idea of pigeon sausage just doesn't sit right with me) so im probably going to give it to one of the talibes. i reply.
oh ok cool.
we go on chatting idly for a while until karly says something:
wait a minute...you realize how weird that is right...having a pigeon sandwich in your pocket?
yeah. i said...laughing. cause its true. i mean how often do you carry around a pigeon sandwich? but this is africa. things are weird like that.
about a half an hour later waiting on the bus to take us to the ferry to take us to goree (sounds a bit complicated, but simplicity isnt really that big of a thing here). the other bus decides its not going to cooeperate and so the bus drivers get together and decide to preform an experiment. can a school bus filled with 20 toubabs be turned into a tow truck (i'll give you a hint - it cant. but maybe it was because there were too many toubabs on the bus). so while this is going on...karly turns to me and says what is quite possibly the funniest thing ive ever heard:
"you know, here we are. sitting on a bus. trying to tow another bus. and youve got a pigeon sandwich in your pocket. and this isnt weird?"
Welcome to Africa.
Here is my new definition of Africa: "Africa is when a normal state of affairs includes sitting on a bus towing another bus through a minor sea, with a pigeon sandwich in your pocket. "
love
jake
ps: at least this wasnt us: "The boat was also overloaded. Now it is at the bottom of the lake,"
http://edition.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/africa/09/05/congo.boat.ax.ap/index.html
not that you know, africa is scary or dangerous or anything....and there were a lot more than 35 people on our boat...
Back from the weekend and I think I can say one thing with pretty much certain definitivity (yeah im making up words again): Africa is the just like the western world, except if you turned it (stay with me here) upside-down, inside-out, frontwards-backwards, leftwards-rightwards, threw it all in a blender, blended until mushy, froze that, then thawed it and mixed it with some tabasco sauce for a little heat and spice.
Still with me? Too bad. I'll illustrate with a few examples from this weekend (which might have been one of the coolest three days of my life...)
We'll start from the beginning: Friday.
It must be mentioned that when we went into Dakar the first weekend, my friends and I noticed a sign on the side of a road across the street from a group of goats eating cardboard boxes from a pile of trash overlooking the temperate waters of the tropical Atlantic (yeah and that's not the weirdest thing I've observed here). This sign was for "L'Oceanarium," a business (I guess, I mean I don't really know what else to call it) that specialized in taking people on all sorts of maritime adventures from kayak renting to boat rides to scuba diving. Yes, Scuba diving AND kayaking. At the same place. So my friends and I resolved to return in a week and go scuba diving because well what else am I going to do with my weekend right? For the rest of the week, as we told our friends back at school about this idea every conversation went like this (and though I do have exaggerative tendancies, here I am not kidding, every.single.conversation.):
Them: Scuba diving, huh? that's pretty cool.
Me: yeah man i know seriously right?
them: are you licensed to go?
me: no
them: dont you need to be?
me: come on, this is africa! no rules here (its true..there arent. I checked).
them: wow. thats really cool. dont die!
me: well ill see what i can do.
Fast forward to last Friday around 3.30pm. I'm floating on the bottom of the tropical atlantic ocean under 20 feet of salt water. a crazy french guy named "michele" is grabbing onto my friend's back while his crazy french girlfriend is grabbing onto mine.
scuba diving was probably one of the coolest things ive ever done, and to be honest i cant wait to go back (oh and i will be going back - sorry mom). its crazy. and french. only without the stench of body odor. you know i never really realized how much effort they put into those tropical fish exibits at the aquarium because thats exactly what i felt like i was swimming through. to be honest the whole thing felt kind of artificial and i had to remind myself every now and then that yes, i was in fact in africa. under water. strapped to a tank of air. being held up (or down depending on my boyancy at that particular moment) by a crazy french girl. looking at tropical fish.
i saw so many different types of life ill give you a partial list here (please note these are the lay-person's name for them so you guys can understand exactly what it was i saw - you know the point of a writer is to paint a picture in the head of his readers and its hard to get a picture of fishicius biggius):
sea urchins
big yellow fish
little yellow fish
little blue fish
fish with all sorts of rainbows on their backs
Dory from Finding Nemo (evidently she forgot she found him - i had to remind her where australia was too)
starfish
starfish eating sea urchins
that evil octopus lady's eels from the little mermaid
weird french guy
weird french guys girlfriend
two toubabs (would that be...dare i say it...twobabs?)
Welcome to Africa.
And that was just Friday. We shall press onwards to saturday.
Saturday:
Saturday we got to go to the Senegal vs. Mozambique football match (thats what they call a soccer game in Africa). It was really cool. Senegal Won 2-0. it was amazing. i wanna go back. But two things really stuck out.
1) how truly easy it is to find 5 toubabs when there surrounded by 50.000 screaming african fans. i mean you might think this would be difficult finding five people in 50.000 but toubabs have a tendency to...how you say...stick out a little bit.
2) how even going to the bathroom is cooler than in the states.
there must be only one bathroom in the entire stadium because every male in the stadium was trying to get through that one 2 foot wide door. it was pandemonium. people tyring to get in, people trying to get out. people trying to just stand there and block everyones way. cats, dogs, goats eating cardboard (still, it wasnt the weirdest thing ive observed while here). once you finally manage to fight your way in, you enter the bathroom to find people lined up at the stalls, rather calmly. its a stark contrast from the chaos that you must endure on youre way into the bathroom. so you wait in line for your turn to pee into the turkish toilet (thats a fancy name for a hole in the ground).
but as ive begun to learn in africa, wherever there is room for one person, there will be two people occupying that space. apparently, even toilets. so there you are standing in a turkish toilet, bumping elbows, hips, heads, shoulders, whatever, with a complete stranger, while you both are trying to pee down the same 2 inch hole in the ground (which is standing 5 feet away it might be noted), while trying to not pee on your own feet as well as avoid your...neighbors (somehow that just doesnt convey the sense of...intimacy inherent in the act).
did i mention i had a pigeon in my pocket for dinner?
Welcome to Africa.
Blaze onwards to Sunday:
Sunday is the fabled Goree trip, a trip that nobody was looking forward to, but everyone loved (by everyone, i mean really only me as far as i know - though i do think that others are going to be returning with me). goree is basically this island. its beautiful. look for pictures later this week or read karly's blog over there ------>
but thats not the fun part. the fun part was that morning, before we left (karly i dont mean to steal your thunder, but i think this story deserves to be told a million times):
It starts like any other morning. I met hannah and laurie (my toubaba neighbors) and we went to go to collect brinan (my toubab cousin). on the way over to brinans, hannah asks me "do you think its going to rain? should i bring a raincoat?"
I look up at the sky, pause for a second, and act decisively: "nahh..you probably wont need it"
the timing of this cannot be overstated, for as soon as i finished those words the sky laughed at me.
this i swear is true. it laughed.
right on cue, raindrops started to fall.
"should i go back and get it?" hannah asks. were at brinans house by now.
"nah, itll stop soon" i assured her.
apparently the sky thinks im a funny guy, because it laughed. it guffawed. it was like a little kid watching by tom and jerry cartoons.
it started to pour.
"maybe it would be a good idea,' i conceded. of course by this point it was already too late, and running back to the house to fetch a raincoat would involve a short jog followed by a swim through the sea of brinans house followed by the river that leads to my house. followed by another short sprint inside.
so it rains. we catch a cab to school. were waiting for everyone to show up and karly notices a bulge in my raincoat pocket (no its not what youre thinking).
whats that? she asked.
i reveal a piece of baguette filled with greyish-brownish goop wrapped in computer paper.
oh its my pigeon sandwich. my mom made it with leftovers from last night. i didnt really like it (i mean it was kinda funky tasting and the idea of pigeon sausage just doesn't sit right with me) so im probably going to give it to one of the talibes. i reply.
oh ok cool.
we go on chatting idly for a while until karly says something:
wait a minute...you realize how weird that is right...having a pigeon sandwich in your pocket?
yeah. i said...laughing. cause its true. i mean how often do you carry around a pigeon sandwich? but this is africa. things are weird like that.
about a half an hour later waiting on the bus to take us to the ferry to take us to goree (sounds a bit complicated, but simplicity isnt really that big of a thing here). the other bus decides its not going to cooeperate and so the bus drivers get together and decide to preform an experiment. can a school bus filled with 20 toubabs be turned into a tow truck (i'll give you a hint - it cant. but maybe it was because there were too many toubabs on the bus). so while this is going on...karly turns to me and says what is quite possibly the funniest thing ive ever heard:
"you know, here we are. sitting on a bus. trying to tow another bus. and youve got a pigeon sandwich in your pocket. and this isnt weird?"
Welcome to Africa.
Here is my new definition of Africa: "Africa is when a normal state of affairs includes sitting on a bus towing another bus through a minor sea, with a pigeon sandwich in your pocket. "
love
jake
ps: at least this wasnt us: "The boat was also overloaded. Now it is at the bottom of the lake,"
http://edition.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/africa/09/05/congo.boat.ax.ap/index.html
not that you know, africa is scary or dangerous or anything....and there were a lot more than 35 people on our boat...
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