2 weeks in

Hello all, sorry for not having posted sooner but I haven't gotten an opportunity to spend some quality time at an internet cafe until now.

As it turns out, the event in my village that I alluded to at last posting was not specifically for me, but was a baptism in which I would have the opportunity to meet and greet everyone in the village. I have made a few friends among the local teenagers, with whom I play football or just generally shoot the breeze. My Wolof seems to be coming on rather well, though it is still rather sparse.

However, this past week has been tough. On Monday the 24th we did not have any classes due to a bank holiday, so I took the opportunity to spend the day with my host family in the village. On Tuesday, our training consisted of language courses, and an informational session by the PC medical team about malaria, in which they tried to drill into our heads how imperative it is for us to take our malaria prophylaxis.

Their warnings proved almost prophetic when I returned to my village for the night as I saw a large number of people who I'd never seen before meeting with my host family. I was able to decipher that my host sister had been taken to the hospital for malaria and had been given an IV, presumably of quinine. I immediately knew that it was serious. I was awakened at about 1:30 the next morning by the sound of one of my two host mothers wailing along with a group of other women. My host sister had died. Due to my fear of making a cultural faux pas, I stayed in my room until the next morning, though I was unable to sleep. When I peeked through my window, I saw a long procession of people going to the hut of my host father (the chief of the village) to pay their respects. The next morning my host mother confirmed to me that my sister had indeed died, leaving behind four children. I had come to an understanding with her youngest, an absolutely fearless 4 year old, who seemed to cling to me and was the only person who would "give me five" when I held out my hand instead of shaking it. At about 6 a.m., I heard a bus leaving the house and imagined that her body was being taken for burial.

Training later that day was tough, both because of how tired I was, and how bad I felt for the family. Personally, I did not know my host sister that well. I only knew how her death had affected her mother, who had no other children. The staff at the PC training center were very understanding and even gave me the option of staying at the center for a little while until the situation at my village calmed down. I chose not to do that because of how my host family has accepted me. I was especially touched when some of the PC staff came with me to my village to express their condolences to the family. A large group of people, both from within and without the village had descended on my host family's home. The functions continued for the next few days and it was only yesterday that life seemed to return to some sense of normalcy in the village. The way that people in this country take care of each other is truly inspiring and one is reminded of the saying "I am my brother's keeper." Indeed, there is much that we could learn from the Senegalese about social capital.

The weather has gotten a bit hotter in the past week, and the dusty Harmattan winds have been blowing here, making for an interesting bike ride between my village and the training center. I don't sleep too well at night because it is so hot and there is no electricity and thus no fan to cool me off while I'm in bed. I guess that I'll just have to get used to it. Anyways, thats all from me for now. Until next time...

Ba benaan yoon!