So I lived a bit of the village life this past week. I stayed over in Ndem and worked a bit figuring out what to do in the next few months. I am having a bit of trouble getting integrated since I just don’t spend as much time there as I do in Bambey. I am trying so hard to gain their respect and trust but I can’t really do that until I do something significant and I can’t get assignments or permission with out that respect and trust. Do you see the problem? I’ve heard of similar problems in the “real world”: can’t get the job without the experience, can’t get the experience without the job. Patience and will power… hope to get the IFAT application finished and perfect before I go to Ndem next time. If they can afford to apply to be fair trade certified, I will be on the right track. There are still a lot of ifs, but let’s hope everything works out to plan eventually.
So I am starting to call Ndem a black hole. Once you get in, it’s rather difficult to leave! Even Senegalese from other places consider this true. The previous time I went, I took a bus in but had to wait over an hour by the side of the road for a bus to pass. While I waited, so did 3 others who were very impatient and they were even tempted to pay double to get a taxi sent out! So this last time I biked in (after fixing a flat all by myself, thank you!) and then met up with Pete, another volunteer who works a lot with artisans. Since he took public transport in, we took it back to his site and left my bike in Ndem.
It was just like being on a safari! He and I rode on top of what we call a bush taxi. It’s more or less a pickup truck with a cover and a rack on top for luggage… or in this case, Pete and I! Since the road is so bumpy, the driver went off the road onto the sand rather quickly. Kind of frightening! This taxi was headed in our direction, so we got on without asking questions. Turns out, it needed to drop off a barrel of gas for a water tower in a village about 10k off the road, down another sand path. So every small village we passed, kids would run after the car shouting “Toubab! Toubab!” On the way out of the village, the driver took a short cut to meet up with the road rather than taking the same road back… well there were a lot of low, thorny branches! Pete actually ripped his shirt and I got a few scraps on my back. All we did see were goats, sheep and cows. Hopefully the next safari has less thorns, scary hairpin turns around trees, and getting stuck in the sand and more giraffes!
After our 5 hours of transport in the hottest part of the day, we made it back to Pete’s site, which is incredibly famous for all their sandals (ppssst: if you want some let me know!). The next day, we went to visit 3 of the 5 villages that are working on a huge order for baskets to be sent to America. People in the villages are wonderfully friendly, which is a good thing since they don’t often make it out of grade school meaning I can’t rely on my backup French.
Village life is a bit more difficult for the toubab woman than it is for the man. I have a lot of respect for my friends that are in tiny villages like this. Men don’t exactly want to shake my hand and expect me to curtsey to show respect, which I rarely do. I spent lunch around a bowl with Pete and Daniel and about 5 other Senegalese men. Right there I am crossing a gender barrier since I was eating with the men. Not to mention, conversation for the next hour was about how I needed a husband. Honestly, I am perfectly happy being a single 23 year old since I know for sure, if I did marry one of these men, I would be cooking and doing their laundry and answering to their beck and call. How appealing?! My excuses didn’t appease them and they all want me back to visit soon. My response: Inshallah.
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