The complex equation of a teardrop

I was reflecting briefly on how a tear or a drop of water travels. Such a small amount of water, yet such a long distance. As it gives out, it reclaims. Something so simple, and yet the equation to figure out what distance it will travel based off how large it is, the humidity in the air, the friction of the surface it is traveling on. Hmmm.

. . .

I wonder how something so simple as my internship turned into something so incredibly complex.

I think about my interests, my faith, culture, cultural change. Of how I feel I connected with my co-workers, and yet that connection never went beyond the rare invitation to someone's house for dinner. Perhaps 3 or 4 times throughout 6 months. I’m not sure I’d want to live on that for much longer. It’ll have to go further next time.

I feel like I could embrace a new culture, that I could thrive in one, really. But, I need to find work that makes me want to be there.

Perhaps that's the essential behind all of this. Exciting about culture and change, yet frustrated, bored, and self-judging about my work. Likely, I'll need to figure out work before I figure trying to figure out a new culture.

. . .

I think of some of the people I'm leaving behind. I will miss certain co-workers as well as friendships made along the way. Even some in the villages themselves, despite the lopsided reasons behind them. Both sides have been using each other for their own means. I perhaps didn't see that I was doing that, but I certainly felt like they were doing that with me. But, I can't deny that this was a mutual using experience.

I think I'll be more content when that 'using' ends and true relationship can form. That requires time and interest, both of which were at times lacking throughout the internship. Everything, I think, just seemed so surface-y. That's probably the greatest dimension that frustrated me.

And yet as I go, I know that I found depth in a few, unexpected places.
Betty.
The family that moved into my place October and November.
A few of my co-workers, with the passage of times.
Learning to joke (giving away my sister for marriage at the extreme price of 70 cows - never got them, so they never got my sister . . . at any rate, I say goodbye to a few ex-brothers in law as a result! ah ha ha h)
Even myself. Learning to let go, to open up, to live out instead of inside all the time.

. . .
As I go, it's the lessons I learned not the results gained that I personally will value the most. I think that's all that matters now. I look to do better the 2nd time round, wherever and whenever that might be.

. . .

I'll see everyone in just a few days.

. . .

(caught in the middle . . . but working towards a particular side as I slowly move along)

Alex

Somewhere in the middle

There is a song written by Casting Crowns. I think it sums up the spirit of my heart and mind at present. If you get a chance to listen to it, it's a fantastic song. '

. . . deep water faith in the shallow end, and we are caught in the middle . . . The God we want and the God who is, but will we trade our dreams for His, or are we caught in the middle . . .'

. . .

I have 1 week left before leaving. Despite the craziness, I've finally found a few moments to simply reflect. Although, really, I'm tired of thinking. A job like this, with so few clarifications (it seems) has made me pretty tired.

It seems like the greatest point of frustration for me over the past 6 months boils down to a feeling of not having been given sufficient feedback from the people I would have expected it to come from. Freedom created a lot of problems for me because I had very little sense of 'what is supposed to be' or 'what I'm supposed to find out'. With so little feedback, I don't think I ever found myself believing that what I was doing was going in the right direction.

I understand very clearly now what is meant by 'institutional arrangements, norms, perceptions, and behaviours' towards the environment. I have less of an idea of whether or not that is even what World Vision Senegal wanted me to find out and whether or not it's good enough.

Some of the hardest points have been times when I feel people are really excited about knowing about what I've learned, and yet I've never really believed that much of what I was doing was going to be bringing anything new to the table. It comes down to a sense of people's expectations towards you being higher than you believe possible to fulfill. You might want to, but the time you have to work with just doesn't feel long enough to get beyond everything that was difficult in order to show some quality work at the end of the day.

It's hard to explain exactly to what extent I believe I 'figured things out'. This has certainly been an internship where it was what I made it. Just, I think I've learned more about what not to do. . . .

. . .

All this said, there are a lot of things that I'm very proud of. I am proud of having taken charge of my own internship part way through the month of August. Most of my village level work was done, however, around that time. So, that will look oddly in the end.

I am proud to look back and realize some things that I do and don't like. I am much more aware of my own needs while overseas. I am proud of some of the ways that I positively started to respond to the culture that I found myself in. That positive response, mind you, was built on a few factors, and factors which remain as clues to me: funky clothes, having some cool conversations with people in the city, being in the city, having a lot more structure built into my work (looking to others for answers instead of having to find them myself), and relating better to a few co workers - also linked with simply engaging the language a bit more (the language really helped facilitate some things, and I see it as a key to engaging any culture I might tackle in the future).

I'm proud of whatever it is that I figured out on my own. I'm proud for having accomplished simple things like arranging my own schedule for the workshops, of creating the translated template of the workshop exercise, of learning through the workshops, of working on the fly for the report of 1 of the 2 workshops. I have no idea, mind you, of whether the report template is the one I was supposed to use . . . and neither is there yet a report for the 1st workshop. It'll come.

I'm proud of taking charge of arranging things like my own transportation when World Vision was not able to do it for me. I'm proud of having worked on many days that World Vision staff were not.

I'm proud of sticking to a schedule because my work required me to, even while the rest of the staff enjoyed a few days of a "Stress Management" workshop! I know I should have been there! . . . ah ha ha.

Essentially, it took me a long time to get over being too frustrated with my work. The ambiguity was killing me. Still is, but I adjusted at least somewhat to it so as to at least try to start to make some concrete decisions. I was still left with the problem of whether or not the questions I was asking, and the ways that I was doing things was effective or appropriate. But, I eventually stopped caring as much about that as well, blaming it on a lack of feedback. There comes a point, basically, where you stop blaming yourself and simply try to move on. I can say I'm mostly there. There are a lot of things with which I just raise my hands and say, 'I'm just learning, I guess'.

Just, to me, that's not the best way to learn. At least, I don't think so. Another big thing is that I never expected work to be so much about, 'Here, do this, but we won't tell you how it's supposed to happen'. Examples: the workshops, the report writing to the workshops, the follow up to the workshops. Essentially, I'm just making stuff up as I go. And I don't ever believed myself to be doing that in university. Thus, my work was justified. I've found myself needing to justify my work, and then simply assuming that it is therefore justified.

Again though, to be fair, part of it has to do with the scheduling, circumstances, and lack of time. November has been crazy, October was all over the place, and then there wasn't enough time to prepare for the workshops, it seems. July and August I was mostly on my own, so that by September I made myself be on my own.

Whatever. For all the things I've worked through, I just think life and work can be done better than that. And believing that, I judged my work inadequate. I did. No one else. And I think I still will on a certain level. But, apparently, I'm not sure how much I need to feel personally responsable for poor performance if there are never any indicators to work with or not enough feedback.

Meh, whatever. I'm sure most of you don't care. I'm just processing. Bear with me.

I'll see you guys in a week.

Coming to a close

I can actually say, 'sadly', even if it's a bit conditioned.

I have 11 days left here in Senegal. The last 3 months have had a different feel , definitely the last two, and certainly this last one.

The first 3 were the hardest.
Not surprisingly, it was the time when I was in the villages the most. Whereas the last 3, I've been in and out sporadically.

But, as I promised to myself and others, I've waited to make conclusive judgment.
With 100% truthfulness, I am thankful for the process, glad to have gone through it.

If you want to enjoy a culture, you have to be willing to engage it. And, if you're me, you need to have a bit of your own in order to step away from it for awhile. That's a principle lesson I learned.

It's not necessarily working overseas that's hard. I think, for me, it was simply the 'working' part. And then it was made harder being overseas. But, I understand my own needs and preferences a lot more as a result of this internship.

But enough of this talk . . .

I was in the market today. My Thiya have caused quite a stare in the city. In fact, I sort of wish I had discovered them a lot sooner. Then turn the attention from 'give me money' to 'look at that white guy with thiya (pronounced, btw, CH eye ah. I actually have no idea how it's supposed to be spelt . . . ! ah ha ha ha).

While in the market, I bought my bananas and oranges. And then I walked past some Peules who stopped me and asked about my Thiya (of course, they asked in Peule, and thus I understood nothing). I showed them my Thiya. They showed me theirs. It was quite interesting, since they have knives attached to the sides of theirs. Being nomadic, they carry these knives around, I guess in order to defend themselves and for any necessary killings.

And now, I have a knife at my side. Alduma Ba give it to me. I have no idea who he is, where he came from, how old he is. Only that I took an interest in the knife (with the full intention of looking for one in the market today when I go to Kaolack). And then he showed it to me and proceeded to give it to me . . . Needless to say, I was a bit 'embarassed' you could say. More accurately, it was a confusion on how to respond appriopriately. A total stranger. A knife. Certainly not too expensive, but a gift all the same. And all I had was 5 oranges and 2 bananas I had just bought (along with a slew of pens, markers, cahiers, my laptop, my MP3 player, cell phone, wallet etc etc etc. But these were in my backpack. And I can't really justify to WV that 'yes, I gave him my laptop with all my research on it because he gave me his knife'. I'm not sure that would've been well received!).

So, I gave him the fruit. It was all I had that I felt I could appropriately give away.

Someone stepping out to offer me a gift first without ouright expecting something in return. That, I believe, is partially cultural. He refused the fruit 3 times before finally accepting it. Just, I felt I had to respond then and there for I will very likely never see him again. Just, it was finally the gesture I would have wanted to received from so many here in Senegal. Give me your 'hand' in friendship, unconditionally, not attached to my money, and I will give you mine in return.

It was a unique moment, and a very memorable one certainly.
. . .

I now have 3 Thiya. 2 Thiya sets (thiya with bou bou) and one Thiya just by itself (the green ones - John would know what I'm talking about). There's a Christmas party on December 1. I will be there, and I will be wearing my Thiya . . .

. . .

In the course of this internship, a part of me has been left in the sandy soils that are the heart and soul of the Senegalese 'poor'. Just, while materialistically poor, I will atest to the fact that they will do their best to give you their best.

For we the 'lofty', comfortable, and unconscious, it is hard to come alongside them in their fields and get our hands dirty. (we isn't we here, if you get me). But, if we can overcome the hurdles, and we invest in their individual or collective capacities, I think very positive transformation is possible.

Personally, I'm still a hung jury. The idealism of the past has been questioned by the very apparent reality. Just, I'm not sure I see poverty as a lack of means as much as it is a broken will to try, an inability or refusal to risk.

My workshops have wanted to bring people to the point where they start questioning why they believe they can't and why they don't believe it could happen.

The first workshop got stuck before it arrived. I learned a lot from it.
The second workshop, I pray, will succeed in different ways from the first.

The report will merely be a recollection of the lessons I learned during these past 6 months. Perhaps the format will be nice and professional, but I'm hoping to personalize it just a bit. We'll see what freedoms WV affords me when I return home.
. . .

And now for home and beyond. I hope not to stay too long, if I find the good fit for a next step. Otherwise, I might get stuck sticking around.

But, at any rate, truly, I am looking forward to the cold, coffee, snow, and snowboarding.
. . .

Thanks for reading all through this time. Thanks for your prayers and your support.
. . .

It's come to a close faster than it needed to.
See you in a bit.

Go figure (don't give it away until you're gone)

Just yesterday, I was told by the new Chef de Base (Base manager) here in Fatick that my capris no longer cut it for proper office attire. I am now required to wear pants.

Unfortunately for Alex, he sent a few pairs home with his sister and a few others were just given away to one of the villages . . .

I guess I'll have to make do with my one remaining, cream coloured khakis. Ah ha ha ha ha ha!

Although, apparently my thiya still counts (whoot whoot), and so might my blue capris if I can sneak them in every now and again (they sort of resemble 'way to short' short pants)

Meh. 4 weeks.

Or I'll just wash my cream khakis every few days . . .

Ah ha ha ha ha ha.

Mango juice and chocolate cruesli

Who needs milk in cereal?!?. This is pretty good.

Waiting for my coffee to brew, figured I'd post another one.

I have 5 more malaria pills to swallow in Senegal. So not only was my vacation over just as soon as it started, so will my internship in the country of Senegal. I'm very grateful and excited about a focus, about something that I know I can apply myself to for the remaining 5 weeks. I'm just as excited about some things of home as I know I am and will be disappointed about some things I will be leaving behind in Senegal.

Today was a day on the beach. There's a very beautiful strip along the west coast of the city of Dakar, running along the northern section of Avenue Cheikh Anta Diop which has some great beaches and some great waves. Today, I took advantage of full blue skies, great temperatures, and a gentle, softly warm wind. Hung out with Anna, Shannon, and Sandra. There sometimes appear to be more girls in Senegal than guys, at least amongst the ex-pat community. Oh well. . . . ah ha ha ha ha. (actually, I had never seen Shannon before and Sandra only 2 times previously. We're gonna grab a bite to eat tonight and maybe hit up the clubs tonight (that would also basically be a first for me during my entire time here in Senegal) ).

(oh, and sorry if the sea and sunny skies bothers some of you. Since I don't get the joy of gorgeous fall weather, I have to rub in what I have to work with . . . I think I'll hit the beach just before I jump on the plane to come home on the 30th of November. That might be a good idea . . . ah ha ha ha)

But yes, this coming week, I need to translate an English workshop tool into French, learn about it, and then teach it to others (on Wed) (or else make it evidently clear to them what it's all about).

The week following is the first of two workshops. Two days. Then prep for the second workshop and the cycle repeats itself.

As a result of the changes, I'll have 1 week for time for follow up in the villages about the workshops. And time for an information session with World Vision Senegal staff that I think more and more is pretty important to do the further along I get into the exercise I'm planning.

Then three final days in the nation's capital.

All in all, I'm pretty excited about the final phase of my internship.

Feel free to let me know what you might like as a souvenir . . . I've got plenty, but if any of you have some cool suggestions, I'll looking it.

I might try to smuggle some young, dormant Baobab trees across the borders. Or maybe not smuggle if it's allowed. Anyone want one? I think they're pretty cool . . .

Over before it started et les voleurs de Dakar

This past week was my vacation. Overall, it was fantastic. However, it was fast and it was short.

My sister arrived on Sunday, early morning, round 4:30 am, without any incident. We crashed till about noon, toured Dakar, and then made sure to sleep well that night.

Monday, we traveled to Fatick. We spent the day there, visiting a few co-workers, refusing multiple marriage proposals (although the offer of 60 cows was tempting). We saw the market place in Fatick, and we made a visit with Betty Reno and Laura, the two ex-pats with whom I've spent a lot of time over the past 5 months.

Tuesday, off we went to the village of Thiouthioune. I think Jozina got a better sense of what village life is like. Hot, dry, slow, and if you don't speak the local language, even more slow and boring than it would be if you at least speak French. But French doesn't cross all barriers either. Regardless, she wasn't too much a fan of the couscous, nor of the couscous with sweetened sour milk. She could live without 'atiya', the local Senegalese tea, and Café Touba wasn't a real thriller either. While she did eat the Djebu Jen (fish and rice), the fish was bought by me and thus a higher quality than is usual in the villages. And overall, I think she cut down a bit on her eating (although her appetite was also pretty low given the heat)

We ended up returning to Fatick at night, slowly wandering our way through the fields (following the sandy trails, mind you), directed by a few of the local teachers who caught a ride to Fatick from us. They provided the orientation, so that was a pretty good trade off.

Wednesday was a day of good and bad. The Bandia Reserve was excellent. Romping through the reserve, chasing after Giraffes and Rhinoceros. Couldn't do something like that at the African Lion Safari. Some good sites, some good pics.
On arriving in Ndagane, however, that's when things turned sour. Already tired from the day, frustrated by all the annoying negotiating one has to do in order to get somewhere and in order not to pay an unjust price, when we arrived at the hotel, I wasn't impressed. The pool wasn't that great, things were unkempt. Our room was dirty when we entered, and then, when we did switch rooms, they (I'm not kidding you) locked us in our room. After 5 minutes of pounding on the window pane, finally someone came. They said we had the key, we never even touched it, said they'd go try to find this lost second pair, and so we waited. And waited. While they had given us the spare key, we were mostly waiting for an apology. But, there was none. In fact, when we went out briefly to see how things were coming along, we found them all sitting around a table, talking away. So, that was the end of our stay at Les Cordons Bleus. Never to be recommended to anyone by me. At 80 USD a night, I would have expected to be treated by royalty, given that this is even a price charged in a place like Senegal.
The French can be so arrogant sometimes.

So, we jumped over to the simple, quaint hostel beside the hotel. Much, much simpler, half the price (even though on some level it wasn't worth that price either). But, the staff made all the difference. Bought us orange juice in the morning when we requested it, offered to go get and prepare our lunch on the Thursday, drove us into town with all of our luggage when we left Thursday evening. The main manager was a great guy.

5 hours after leaving the hostel, we finally arrived, tired and cramped from our ride in a 7 place station wagon, in Dakar. Crashed at New Tribes Mission. Probably my preferred resting spot in Dakar. Some great services included in the low price of 4600 CFA / night. Can't be beat.

And today, well, overall, today was great. Although, I'm sad to say I didn't do my job very well. We overpaid for a few key items we bought. Still, I think that it would probably take me about 1 year to get it all figured out. And even then there would be things that surprise me.

It was a pretty long day wandering around the markets of Dakar, continually shrugging off pestery sellers and occasionally thankfully avoiding scuffles after being called racist and being told that I should leave the market and go home to Canada by upset sellers, who, by the way, 20 minutes later, wanted to sell me something (losers). It can be tiring having to put up with their scheming and scamming.

All the same, en route to the French Cultural Centre in the evening, after the markets, I am content to report that I successfully fought off being stolen from.
There were 3 guys, all 'selling' things. Except, they stated pretty normal, acceptable prices. Clue number 1. Clue number 2. They were too happy. Number 3. They started grabbing my shorts, saying, wow, those are great shorts, great shoes etc. Then they started tugging and swishing my shorts. It was odd. And then they stopped. And in the back of my mind, something started wondering. I checked my pockets, and I had been checking my pockets during this time anyways. But, I double checked. We were about 15 seconds down the road, however, and they started really going at my shorts. I was like, 'what the heck are you doing?' All my senses on high, knowing that something was going down. And then, in the middle of their shaking and tugging my shorts, there was a hand reaching into my pocket . . .

And then there was me, shoving my hand against the third guy, pushing and shoving him into the side of the building at the side of the road. And then I went for his neck. Hand on his neck, my face burning, my eyes flashing, my adrenaline pumping, my heart burning so hard with anger, frustration, and fatigue of all that is sometimes Senegal. Of people who never stop asking for your money when sometimes I believe they should be working for it. Of people who state one price and then fail to live up to it. Of people who see white and only think of money. Of people who are as happy to sell you something as they are angry when you actually know the real price and simply cut to the chase.

Given the events of the day, and my level of frustration, this attempt by this 3 guys placed the piece of straw that broke the camels back. And I blew up. I yelled at that guy in English so hard, and drove at him so quickly. I didn't care what the other two were doing because I knew if I confronted this guy hard and forcefully, the other two would leave me alone or risk their friend being seriously injured if I started throwing punches.

At any rate, I shoved him away, yelling at him some more, threatened them not to come near me, and not to touch me again. And then I stormed off.

As odd as it might sound, I was thoroughly content. A little frightened perhaps, but there was a bunch of angst against some cultural stress that had been building up that was unleashed in those few moments. I let out against personal frustrations, against cultural nuisances, and against past failures. Against a time I was beat up (mildy) outside a bar in Guelph, against times in my life (grade school, high school, and even in university) when I've just stood there taking a beating or being threatened with one, instead of standing up for myself. It was a chance, finally, to simply show that I had had enough. These boys just picked the wrong time.

And so no, no one was hurt, and no one got into a fight. I just made it perfectly clear I wasn't going to stand there and get messed with.

So, that was an exciting event of this evening.

And so off we went to the French Cultural Centre. Watched a drum show. It was fantastic.

And then it was over. And then I had to go back with Jozina back to the hostel, to pack up our things, to make our way to the airport. As I write, it's 2:00 am. She will be flying out of the airport in just 1/2 hr's time. So, our time was well spent, but also very short. We did a whirlwind tour of all that is Senegal, and I think she got a good sense of what the country is like in just a few short days.

And, today is a day to mark on the calendar. In 5 weeks time, exactly to the date, I'll be back in Canada. You might be able to pick up in the post that things have been tough at times. There's a lot to have to deal with overseas sometimes. Overall, it's been a good and worthwhile experience. I'm very much looking forward to the next 5 weeks, and extremely curious to know where it all leads at the end.

But, I am looking forward to certain aspects of home. Of coffee at Starbucks or Tims. Of cold. Of snow. Of relaxing days and evenings when things just 'are' and I don't have to think so much.

Still, there is an energy in the rush, tug, push, and pull of working overseas. If I can find something properly suited for me, I'll want to find myself somewhere else in the world in the future. Perhaps even Senegal, despite all the ups and downs.

Only time will tell, and for now, I'll just work on these next 5 weeks . . .

Scorpions, Thiya, Headaches, and Satisfying work

In response to a few blog posts: were my Thiya gold, they wouldn't be offered as a sacrifice to encourage a bloke to drop the habit when it's highly unlikely that will ever be a reality. Whatever. If I do happen to return with Golden Thiya, touch them not. Or thou shalt loseth thy handethness.
. . .

I write some interesting words in my interesting title in the hopes that you might find it interesting.

Headaches: I suffered today. It's been a long time since. And I'm willing to believe that the heat is partly to blame. The thought crossed my mind that I've repeated told myself that I don't sweat here like back home. So, why would it be dehydration. I fail to remember, often, though, that dry heat doesn't cause you to notice the sweat as readily because it doesn't stay on you as much as with humid heat. So, my headaches are likely to have something to do with that.

All the same, there have been a few times that I have directly pushed on the shunt valve to see if it would pop up on its own. The doctor, when I was in the hospital last, did that to me once. I thought it was illegal, that doctor police would rush in and handcuff him. But, no. And apparently, that's still an appropriate action to do because if it doesn't pop back up, that's a bad sign. But, it should always pop back up.

So, finally, tonight, I did that. And it took awhile. So, I'm a little concerned. It's fine right now, but I was like, what?!? Jeez, let's get popping. But, whatever. I'm praying for 6 weeks of time so that I can do something that I feel I finally understand the direction and structure of. And all the learning in the villages has led me here, so I really don't plan on throwing in the towel just quite yet, not after all that time and effort, frustration and learning.

. . .

Scorpions. They do exist in West Africa. And thankfully they don't kill you, otherwise, well, I'd be dead . . . I thought I had put my stomach against something burning or against a fiercer version of some of the biting ants they have here in Senegal. But no, in between the door and the door frame was a scorpion. And it stung me. (bad word, towards the scorpion).
I looked at it, though, 'hey, that looks like a scorpion'. And then I looked at it, and wow, it was a scorpion. And then I thought, hmm, if I suddenly start feeling faint, oh man . . . so, off I went romping to find me a book that would tell me if I was about to die.

I'm grateful there are no deadly versions of scorpions in West Africa . . .

. . .

As I've already alluded to, my work, despite being really intense this past week, has been really satisfying. I tend, as everyone must know by now, to sometimes do things in long-winded form. I realized that a few of the documents I slaved away at during my planning days for the Workshop planning days (so, the planning for the planning), well, they weren't that useful. And should've been abbreviated. So, they are now. But, they weren't then. Oh well.

Yesterday and today were long planning sessions where I learned that the planning I had done wasn't enough (not a huge surprise), and that we would have to expand what I was doing in a few ways. Workshop dates have been re-arranged, a new 'Jour de Harmonization' (a day of planning to make sure certain invitees are thinking the way we want them to be) was planned for each ADP where I worked.

Despite all of this, and because of it, really, because it means there are tangible and exciting things to do, my work has been satisfying this past week. For this, I am extremely thankful.

I'm also grateful for available money for the workshops, even while I haven't seen any of it yet. I'll be reimbursed all the same, and I haven't spent much of my own for the workshops to date. I won't be able to spend more anyways because I really don't have that much money at present. Except the money for my vacation.

Yes, priorities.

. . .

Well, I want to be rested for my day of work tomorrow. So, off to bed I go. I want to wake up well, without a headache.





We'll see.