friday's perspective on monday and tuesday evening

This week has flown and I meant to get on and write about Tuesday as soon as it happened but somehow it's Friday already and here I am, waiting around in the computer lab until I leave for the dermatologist's office to see about some weird bites on my legs instead of going out with my friends to the market to buy fabric and sandals and shawarma as I had planned. Grrrr...well at least I've got the chance to write again.
That said, I'll begin with a Monday that was uneventful other than the discovery of this stand outside the university where you can buy a bag of warm baked buttery biscuits (yum, alliteration!) for 100 CFA. We had gone to find a place to make cheap photocopies for the Senegambia class - which is incidentally improving every time, Alhamdulilaay. We even found a place that for 15 CFA per page will copy the whole thing for you so you dont have to stand there and do each page yourself. Alhamdulilaay! Later that day we were told that since the Muslim new year was that evening there would be no class Tuesday and probably Wednesday as well depending on the teachers. I spent a lazy day hanging out with the fam and reading a lot, and then asked the girls if theyd show me how to do my laundry. I thought it was way too much stuff to give the maid in one wednesday but as it turns out they were more annoyed about pulling out all the buckets for me and told me that it was hardly anything and that next time the laveuse could do it.
Its stuff like me doing my laundry by hand that I want to have a picture of, but I could not whip out the camera in front of the kids without fear of it getting destroyed. I bought powdered laundry soap for about 20 cents at the boutique next door. First I bought the wrong kind of soap in a bar and then Samu came and explained in Wolof what I wanted. You use four buckets - first get the clothes wet and squeeze them out, then put them in the soapy bucket and wash them across your knuckles - really just the armpits and hems and necks and stains. Then you do it again in a bucket of fresh water, then rinse them in a fourth bucket. Then you squeeze them out really well, put them in a fifth bucket and carry them up to the roof where you hang them on a long line with clothespins. Everything was dry within a couple of hours, what with the wind.

When Hannah got back from her day's adventures wandering the city in search of other peoples' houses and less boredom, we sat down to some TV, and then JB came in with a very tall friend. After a few minutes said friend got a phone call and JB asked if we wanted to come to Amitie 3 for a little while. We figured this would be a short walk and some sitting around at a friend's house for an hour or so but due to the usual lack of communication it turned out to be an all-night affair that was possibly the oddest, most uncomfortable six hours of my life but which has turned into a good story since I'm clearly still around to tell it. In any case we grabbed our bags and tried to make sense of where we were going and how long we might expect to be there, and could not. We got in a taxi with tall man who turned out to have a stutter and a liking for beer, both of which made it painfully difficult to decipher his conversation. We spent a good three hours in this weird bar where a bunch of dudes got a plate full of what I think was fried pork and then POURED BEER IN THE LEFTOVER FAT AND MUSTARD AND DRANK IT. oh gosh. Most of them dispersed soon after and tall man commenced to slowly question us about why we were in Senegal and tell us how much the Western world has screwed over Africa. I think this is what he was talking about, anyways, along with some stuff about how someone busted his knees so he can no longer play basketball. It made me think a lot about why I am here, but it was also a very uncomfortable situation that involved periodic bouts of dance with the two men and me and Hannah and us sort of eyeing each other and making half-assed plans to get the hell out of there without them. They paid for everything, the beer and the meat and the public transport, and it was SO WEIRD. I have no concept of whether this may have been a double date. Finally tall man got insulted that we refused to drink more beer with him and the boys finished off their beers and we left. We thought it would be a simple taxi ride home (now about 11 pm) but instead we waited a bit, then hopped into a giant white van with some unknown dude who drove us about halfway to where we were hoping to end up. During the ride JB decided we should probably get hamburgers so we got out and took a car rapide the rest of the way down the road, then walked another twenty minutes through some dark and windy streets to get to this little fast food place. The hamburgers were delicious. Un hamburger complet contains a big slab of meat, eggs, french fries, ketchup, mayonnaise, mustard, tomatoes, onions and I have no idea what else. JB tried to get us to name everything that was in there. On the way to the burger joint Maman Amitie called us wondering where we were and JB said we'd be home soon so we had to eat our first giant sticky juicy Senegalese burgers in transit. We were sort of dazed upon arrival and went straight to bed wondering if it had all been a dream...
Wednesday my 9 am class was cancelled but I went in to use the computers as WARC anyway. A bit later I went with some girls to the Marche HLM which is like the market downtown except as it turns out, its much more relaxed and easy to just browse and stroll without people trampling or jostling or bugging you about what they have to sell. We walked around and asked prices and it is mind-boggling to me how literally hundreds of people selling the exact same thing can exist at stores side-by-side for years. I didnt have much money on me (or confidence, for that matter, after the previous night) so I didnt get anything yet, but a couple of girls got sandals and fabric. It seems like about 8 bucks for six yards of fabric is a pretty decent price for a toubab, which we can then get made into wrap skirts or outfits very cheaply - maybe a few dollars. Maman Amitie's eldest daughter, Didi, said she'd make some clothes for us if we want, though that could get weird if we offer to pay, so I may go elsewhere. Who wants a skirt? Let me know and that would be a cool thing to bring back for people.
Yesterday was pretty tame save several hours of blackout where the kids sort of went nuts in the dark. Hannah and I have decided our house is like the Neverland of host families since there are nine kids aged 10-27 and one adult who's about 70. The older ones arent on the same schedule as the younguns and dont dole out discipline at all, so sometimes it's a complete madhouse. Samu is just a little terror, poking us with pins and bursting into our room and generally annoying everyone around, but he's alright most of the time. The older kids (Reine 15, Fifi 14, and Jean Paul 18) have been really great and patient with our french and just generally make good conversation and correct our grammar. Reine lent me Harry Potter in French! I'm so excited.
Classes as I said are getting better but there's still very little work and lots of down time to do all kinds of craaaazy stuff as you can see. I'm at the point where I wake up to the alarm and the first thought in my head is "ugh I dont want to get out of bed" rather than "holy crap I'm in Senegal," so I guess that means I've settled in a bit. This weekend we're going to try and get in on a Superbowl party hosted by the American marines. wouldnt that be wild...tomorrow I've got dance class and right now I'm going to the dermatologist to see about my lovely oozing left ankle. Peace out for the time being and maybe when I dont have any more exciting stories I will give you "a day in the life of Leora" and bore you all to tears. Some people here can't imagine what I'm putting in this blog all the time but I feel like I have loads to tell about every minute I'm here, so bear with me, folks.

No random observations today because I'm in a rush now to get out of here but I will give you this shining example of the influence of American culture on Senegalese youth: Jean-Paul turned 18 last week and got a real tattoo that says THUG LIFE in giant vertical letters down his right arm. Enough said.