One big fat sloppy kiss from Tamba right to me!

All I can say is that it was a good thing that I had my "Africa" hat on. All I had to do... okay wait. You remember the posts about the electric company and the huge rigamarole about the "tension" or voltage issues we had? Well if you don't, that's okay. It was a long, painful process so some things are best forgotten.

Well anyway the time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of reimbursement for the fees I paid the company for the step-up in voltage. All you have to do says electricity technician, is come to the office when you're about to leave Tamba, bring your receipt and we will reimburse you. It was sort of like a deposit for up'ing the amount of electricity we could get into our house. Okay I say.

So since we are leaving at the end of the week, the first thing I do at the beginning of the week is to go to the office and confirm the process for my reimbursement. I wanted to make sure it wasn't a usual switcheroo jobby that they do when they ask you for a copy of your passport or some other piece of paper with the special stamp from the post office (this would not be unusual). So wearing my "Africa" hat, knowing that the process very well may not be as easy as they have portended, I go into the electric company with my receipt.

"What's this???" says a woman rep that I've never seen before. I guess they hadn't even amended their files to read that I had paid for the upgrade in July. Well obviously I paid for it I say, you're holding the receipt. Wait, who is this other person listed on the account? the woman asks. Oh I say, I don't have any idea. I say that since we came here 5 years ago we tried to get the name off the account and put our name on the account but it was a big ole stink and finally after one year of hassling with your company, we decided to let it drop. She's like. well that's not normal! She says we're going to give your reimbursement ($400) to the guy listed on the account because its his account. I practically have a coronary. I say "What??!!!" I say I paid that fee out of my own pocket and we practically wrestled with the company when we first got here to get the account set up properly but it never panned out and we finally gave up. She's like. Well no one can give you your money now because your name isn't in the account.

You can only imagine my reactions. I basically said that that was ridiculous and obviously for the last 5 years the company hasn't had any problem asking us for money and delivering us bills and giving us service as long as we pay for it. As say, a few days before we leave the town you are telling me that there is a problem with the account. I say, No way Jose! (well I didn't say Jose) So she takes me to see the boss.

Luckily. Luckily the boss is the brother of my best friend in Tamba. Cha-ching. We have a happy greeting and the story is explained to him. He unfortunately agrees that it is a problem but that they will call the guy whose name is on the account and have him come in to tell him that the reimbursement is ours, not his. Brother of friend says to come by tomorrow. We leave on Friday I state... Oh... he says. Well we'll try and get it figured out by then.

I call the next day to find out.... the brother has left town to go to Dakar!!! Yay!!! so I talk to the woman I talked to previously who tells me that no one can do anything until the brother comes back since he is handling the file now. She tells me to come back next Monday. I say, You're kidding, right? I told you yesterday several times that we are leaving on Friday. That I was assured that all I needed to do was bring in the receipt and get reimbursed. Silence on the other side of the phone.

So I call my girlfriend who promises to call her brother. He had explained the whole situation to her before he left on his trip. Hopefully he gets back tomorrow. i called the office again today and talked to the woman who obviously does not care in the slightest about the situation or issue. Oh the guy hasn't shown up yet she says. I said, did you send out the letter asking him to stop by? She says yes, normally it should have been sent out. I tried to get his phone number but no one has it apparently. I asked her to confirm that the letter arrived. She didn't seem to enthused to go check.

So. I am calling her back right now to see if there is any progress on things. Then I have to go to the phone company. Luckily I had my Africa hat on for them too. Because supposedly I was told is that all I needed to do was come by 2 days before we leave and pay the rest of the account. I also stop by on Monday to confirm this. Oh no, says someone else. You need to bring in an official letter and this and this and that... THEN you can close out your account. Ha! I knew it. So now with those items in hand, I can try this again.

Wish me luck. Once the phone line goes (today most likely) we'll be offline until we leave Tamba. More stories to come, I'm sure.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

1. A starter of butternut squash soup with leeks and smoked bacon
2. Two Johns on the right, Cece and Brook. Let's eat!
3. I join the picture!
4. The Thanksgiving Turkey Pass (out).

We invited Peace Corps (total of 15) to come over for dessert where we handed out plates of apple & cranberry pie; pumpkin pie, pecan pie, cherry pie, chocolate and lemon tartlettes, orange walnut meringues, chocolate chip cookies and vanilla ice-cream. We even had some leftovers!

Wish you were here!

John and Cece's birthday party

complete with individual molten chocolate cakes and white chocolate ice-cream. Happy Birthday to you both!

Goodbye party with our closest local friends

It was a very touching get-together with our close Senegalese friends. We invited over the people the closest to us and fed them lunch. Afterwards people just started talking about how they knew us and just were talking about reflections over the past 4 1/2 years. It was really nice. My two best friends are Ouli and Binta, the two women sitting next to me. Note my rooster-head dress, which gets many compliments. Brook was in his fish shirt. We will definitely miss our friends here.

Peace Corps Scavenger Hunt and Fried Chicken Party

As Brook's and my last farewell to Peace Corps/Tamba, we hosted a Scavenger Hunt with the following items:
One black plastic bag with any type of white writing on it

One talibe tomato can (used)

One fabric strip showing any type of animal on it

One broken sandal (any type)

One green or pink plastic button

One kids pair or shorts or shirt (used)

One bird feather (no goose feather allowed!)

Few strands of discarded hair weave

One eaten and discarded corn cob

One empty gunpowder tea box

One mango leaf

One discarded 1,000 phone card

One discarded 2,500 phone card

One discarded 5,000 phone card

One broken or piece of horseshoe

One ‘dankx’

One discarded razor blade

One Madonna sticker

One Tiger-brand discarded battery (any size)
One Soleil paper (dated today)
BONUS: One horn or hoof of animal (any)

There were three teams of 4-5 people a piece and Team #2 (second to the last photo) were the Grand Prize Winners. After the hunt, we sat down to a huge pile of my famous Buttermilk Fried Chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy and bisquits. That and two cases of beer. :)

We held two contests after lunch. One of which was to tell about and/or show the best English-speaking t-shirt they got second hand in Senegal. A "Cub fan, Bud man" T-shirt worn by Mike Wilcox was the winner. After this, people told their favorite 'african' story. The winner was a guy named Greg, whom I affectionately call "Monkey boy" for his winning story about the time he went to the market and bought a monkey head for a friend's birthday.

It was a good day. We're going to hold a Senegalese version of this party this upcoming Saturday for our close Senegalese friends. Without the contests and the beer of course. Will probably be less invigorating but we dont' want to freak anyone out!

John's 61th Birthday (Brook's boss)

Having requested Indian as his birthday cuisine, we piled the table full of Dal, dry-fried potatoes, smoked aubergine, rice with peas, tandori chicken and rajita. For his birthday cake he had an angel food cake with chocolate icing coupled with java chip ice-cream. happy birthday John!

Cricket Season or "Attack of the Crickets"

creepy. as soon as I just titled this entry, I heard a single chirping cricket in the next room. Yeah, so last night was attack of the cricket. We get various seasons here. Mysteriously there will be a flood of grasshoppers that come into our house one month, are in droves outside... and then 2 days later they all go away. Then another month we get flying insects, yesterday was the cricket. I guess we get a minature version of what they got in Egpyt with all those plagues.

I think the latest cricket caper is because we had a rain about a week ago, so I guess crickets are happy about that. Brook was a roll last night with his shoe and although I do not endorse stomping on crickets (they can't help it what they are and what they do), he seemed to feel better at contributing to the reduction of noise pollution in our house.

Now the Tambacounda cricket is much different than your ordinary cricket. These little buggers are loud! And I mean one Tambacounda cricket could easily hold its own to any other cricket in the world. CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP says the Tambacounda cricket. They come in under doors, they hop up the stairs and into our room. One cricket had a particularly cool sound.. it was cricket sound, but it was in stereo. It almost had an echo to it.. .or it sounded like he was in surround sound. We didn't find him.

Yeah so we go to bed and Brook is determined to get every last lingering cricket out of our bedroom... I look up from my book as he says, ... .did you hear that?! where is that one coming from? "I don't know" I say disinterested. He says yeah, you'll be waking me up when that cricket wakes you up with its chirping. I listen to the faint chirping from somewhere in the room. Nah I say. that's not a 'real' Tambacounda cricket. A real Tambacounda cricket would be very silent right now and wait until all the lights were out. Then and only then would the Tambacounda cricket start to chirp really loudly. This faint cricket sound was not impressive.

Brook is pulling all the furniture away from the walls in our room, walking on the bed and taking a stick and tapping the tapestries on our walls to find the stray crickets. I finish another chapter of my book. I can't find them he says exasperated. I become philosphical. Just think I say, soon we won't have a flood of crickets coming into our house in droves... Yeah, well I don't want them here now either he says. He decides to go outside on the balcony and see if that is where the crickets are. He comes back. You won't believe how many crickets there are out there. Oh yeah? I say. He takes our insect repellent and starts spraying and comes back. I tell him that "off" won't kill the bugs. But he says Yeah but they don't like it. I tell him where the bug spray is. He goes down and comes back and outside does a wild cricket spraying campaign. I feel bad for the crickets. But at the same time, it is quiet now. Brook comes back, mission accomplished. We had a hearty and fitful, cricket-free sleep.

How much do you weigh?

Okay I had another banner day in Sandaga Market (read Bandit's Market). Had a duo team try and rob me. They were unsuccessful. I was leaping around like a gazelle and then a group of pretty much yelled at them and they squirted away. It was actually Sandaga market which inspired this blog in the first place. The last wonderful post about Sandaga was about how a crazy man was following me and yelling at me. It was sort of scary. anyway 'almost' being robbed doesn't make a good story. But,

the one reason Sandaga market is interesting is because it's one of the oldest markets in Dakar and you can see really odd stuff. Like there was a scale on the sidewalk with a 10F sign on it. and someone's job was to sit by the scale and if anyone wanted to weigh themselves, they pay the owner 10 Francs (like a penny?) and then I guess you get weighed. If it weren't Sandaga market and I weren't walking as quickly as possible to avoid bandits I might have given it a whirl.

That would be a cool study though. See how much income someone makes from their business and how many clients they have and whether they are regular and if you can charge extra to keep charts for them. Business possibilities are endless! It's too bad this hasn't taken off in other parts of the world

Blow-Up

no, not the movie (which is a good movie), my computer. Yes, that is why I haven't posted because I haven't had a stinkin' computer. Yes so I get back to Tamba... happy me... Get back to Tamba and three days later we get our last big rainstorm during the day (which is a sign that it's one of the last rains of the season). So we get the daily rainstorm and it's great beause I love rain.. yadda yadda and then all of a sudden a huge CLAP! thundercrack. In our house. A lightening bolt came into the house, surged our power, blew out my surge protector and my computer.
yay. So I confirmed that my AC/DC cord was completely burnt out too as well as my modem.
So the trick of course was seeing how to get an adapter to Tamba. That is the real question, isn't it? Is it as easy as it sounds you ask? Oh yes. It's a piece of cake!!!

so I call Toshiba. They can send me the cable but it's $100 and $50 to send fed-ex. Then to Fed-ex to Dakar where my friend will pick it up and have my public transport driver stop by and pick it up and take it to Tamba the next time he comes, will be $172. Otherwise the Toshiba person suggests that I go to the nearest Toshiba authorized dealer. Do you want to see if I have one in your town, he asks me?

No. I say. I can guarantee that you dont even have one in my country. The agent is not convinced. Oh let me check. You are where??? I said, Senegal, West Africa. "Africa, Africa... yes, well we have an agent in Kenya..." I'm like, Okay there are like 20 countries between here and Kenya. I said, do you have any other countries that are closer...? "South Africa dot dot dot" (obviously doo-dad is not near a map). I said anything in WEST Africa. Finally at the end of his list he mentions Ghana (only 4-5 countres away) and Morocco (only 2 countries away)

Okay that was helpful. I go back to option 1 about getting the cord from the states. But I also don't want to bankrupt myself doing so. I decide to double-prong my approach and actually contact Morocco (figure 2 countries away is better than 5) to see if by some miracle they can mail me a cord soon. So I call and they say that somebody is traveling to Senegal next week. I ask when... they can't say. Next week they insist. Doesn't sound sure to me. I say, Okay do you ahve the right cord. They say, well write me an email. so i write an email. I get an answer back the next day saying what the guy said on the phone... Someone is travelign to Senegal next week and can bring one then. So I write back again asking a price, when they are coming and if it is compatible with my computer. Pesky American.

I don't hear anythign. i am about to break down and break my bank and do the Toshiba to mother to my Dakar friend to Omar Sy (the driver) to Tamba route. I figure at least I know all the players. But I call Morocco a day later just to confim. Oh, says Moroccan dude. I will mail the cord tomorrow. Hmm. that is interesting. Okay. so I bag sure but expensive US route and decide to follow Moroccan route. So lo and behold I find out that the cord was delivered to Dakr and should be there. I call my friend in Dakar to see if he can go pick it up. Then I call Omar to see when he is coming to Tamba. I coordinate with him to go meet up with my friend, get the cord from Morocco but delivered to dakar to bring to me. I get this to happen. Saturday, the cord arrives!

Good news is that it fits. Bad news is that it wasn't the entire cord. Only the top adapter part an not the part that plugs into the wall. I'm not sure why. But that is the way it is. But good news is that I managed to use Brook's old laptop plug to fit into the top part of the cord. We have lift-off. But I have realized that my USB ports are totally burnt out.

This was after, entretemps, I had to go to Sonatel with my burnt out modem to get a new one. You know.. i will spare you the modem part of the story. Long story short is that I managed to get a modem and get it installed and everythign is fine. Although i can't hook up to dsl through this computer... only through network which I am accessing in Dakar. See. It's complicated.

But all in all I think it explains why I haven't been online. But see what a juicy and informative story you get for having waited for it? yeah... alright don't comment on that

Photos from today's 1st Annual Ramadan All You Can Eat Spaghetti and Beer Party

I cooked over 5 big packages of spaghetti and made 4 batches of various sauces. Plus we had banana splits for dessert. I can always count on Peace Corps to chow down

Kunaba mails a Letter-Part Three

Well whoever voted that Kunaba would actually mail the letter, won. I got home to Tamba and called (because I was curious) the guy in Kayes who was supposed to have received the letter mailed from Kunaba. Lo and behold, the guy said he had received the letter (my double whammy approach of talking to the head of the household must have worked!) and sent it on to Tamba.

Of course I still don't have the letter. I'm trying to track down its location somewhere in Tamba. Supposedly it was given to my Malian friend (who is out of the country again) and I've made three phone calls to various people trying to track it down. I'm sure my Malian friend is not carrying around a letter that does not belong to her around... so I know it's somewhere. I've got one person who is house-watching her house looking around to see if he can lay his hands on it. No luck in the past 2 days, but it is still young. There is a slight chance they won't find the letter but it's gotta be around. I stand corrected. I really thought there were too many variables to fall into place to actually get the letter---although in some way I am counting my chickens before they hatch because I still don't have the letter in hand. Still, this post is for those of you out there who believe miracles are indeed possible.

No good, Poe-tay-TOE??

it's not even that funny. Mother and I were walking out of the main grocery store the other day in Dakar and some guy was following us with a bag of potatoes trying to sell them to us. Mother was like, 'What's he doing?" and I said that he was trying to sell us some potatoes. So hearing that we were speaking English he continuing following us saying, "Po-tay-TOE", which for some reason just cracked me up. I think it was how he pronounced it... because outside of the strong emphasis on the "TO" part, he said each syllable distinctly as almost separate words. So, still walking I asked him, "Po-tay-TOE?" in the same way, and he gets enthusiastic now that he's gotten my attention. "Po-tay TOE!" he says again holding up his bag so I can look deeply into the bag of potatoes. I'm really amused now. "Po-tay-TOE!" I repeat to him, confirming that I see now that he has these potatoes. But he's waiting for me to buy some now... I say in english, "Sorry, no". Oh no! He's crushed, but he hasn't given up. "No good Po-tay TOE??" I can't help myself now, I'm laughing outloud.... but I managed to say, "No, no Good Po-tay-TOE!" Then of course I was repeating, "No good potatoe??" to mother and then burst out laughing. I told her that I was sorry because I knew it wasn't that funny but for some reason it just really cracked me up. She said, Obviously. she wanted to know what he meant by saying "No good potato?" and I said, Well it's not really clear which is another reason why it's funny." He could have meant, "Are the potatoes off?-- no good potato?" or just generally, "Potatoes are not good for me today--no good potato?" Anyway aren't you pleased to hear about the Po-tay-TOE--No good potato??"

The shoe drops: The second part to the Malian post office post

I guess I was procrastinating because I already know the end of the story. So I told you about Kunaba and how she was in Bamako and called me telling me that she has some 'items' for me that she needs to get to me, including a couple of letters from my friends. She wants to know how to get them to me (dot dot dot... open question) So I tell her that I'm supposed to go to Dakar on assignment (true) and won't be able to go and pick anything up personally in Bamako. I also don't mention anything about her visit here and she actually doesn't ask to come either. I tell her that I will do research on my end on how to get the things to Tamba. (not an easy feat).

So the next several days I try and track down my contact who is a Malian but living in Tamba, but she is traveling in France. I talk to one of her employees at the hotel/restaurant she owns and try and get a hold of her that way. At first he was holding information very close to his chest, but then I finally just told him the whole Kunaba story (not THE whole Kunaba story, but just the part that she is trying to get some stuff over to me) and I tell the guy that I thought that my friend could give an address and name in Bamako where Kunaba could drop off the stuff and then someone could send it over to Tamba. Well since my contact is traveling for a month in France, that option is a no go. But by the time I tell this guy over the phone the whole story, he comes up with someone he knows who lives in a regional town between Bamako and Tamba (in Mali). So he gives me his contact information. I call this guy, give him the whole story and we are thinking that Kunaba can try and put the goods on a public transport vehicle out to Kayes where this guy can pick them up. Then he says that he or someone he knows comes to Tamba all the time. Okay... although it makes me nervous because there are a lot of steps and the more difficult the solution, the more unsure for a successful execution...

So finally after the 4-5 days it takes me to get this far (includes more than one phone call of course which I will spare you the step by step details) I call Kunaba back at the place she's staying in Bamako. Evidently she has moved over to the compound where all our village stays when they come to Bamako. They don't have a phone there. So a kid is sent to go over to where Kunaba is staying to bring her back to receive my phone call. So I call and Kunaba answers and I tell her that I think I have a solution for the gifts. Then she tells me that the food she had for me has spoiled (she seemed slightly sulky about this but I could be wrong)... and although I am unsure how peanuts can spoil so quickly, I chalk that up to a blessing since I didn't want the peanuts in the first place. I tell her to take down the phone number of the guy I talked to in Kayes to coordinate with him how to send the stuff to me via public transport. She says she understands and I give the phone number but it's unclear if she really understands.

One week later I call the guy in Kayes to see if Kunaba called. She hadn't (of course). So I call back to the house in Bamako so that a kid can go over to where Kunaba is staying and call her to the phone. But before I hang up, I luckily talk to the head of the household, a nice and educated guy who speaks French, not just Bambara. I give him the PO Box where Kunaba only has to go to the post office and mail the letter to this guy in Kayes, in Mali and he will get the letter to me. This solution is seemingly simple. All she has to do is to put the letter in another envelope and have someone address it and put a stamp on it for her. So I explain to the head of the household so he knows and can hopefully explain it to Kunaba. I tell him that someone need only accompany Kunaba to the post so she can mail the letter. He says okay. I then talk to Kunaba and talk to her about it... I don't know if she understood or not... But at the end of the conversation (by default since she just put down the phone, but did not hang up) she started talking to someone else in the household about what i was saying and I thought she was talking to me, but she wasn't and someone else hung up the phone.

So. There we go. Supposedly there is the information about mailing the letter.. but I do not have a good feelign about actually getting my letters. I told Brook I gave it about a 15% chance that the letter would arrive. He said he gave 30%, which was still 3 in 10 and not looking so positive. So there you go. The question to you was what do you think. Do you think I will get the letters? It has lost its suspense since it's already been a month since she was supposed to have mailed the letter and I still haven't received jack. When i do get back to Tamba, I will call the guy in Kayes just to see if he got anything. I think I know the answer to that. I suppose I should just forget about getting any letters. Ah well. You can't say I didn't give it the college try.

Taximan, Taximan

Because the price on a taxi ride is negotiable, taxi drivers will use any excuse to increase the price of a fare. They say they are raising the price either because of the time of day you are traveling, or what part of the city you are traveling to and the distance it is; as well there are also overall conditions such as the rising gas prices and the traffic, all which factor into their calculations of getting as much as they can from you. Today I got someone talking about the traffic and distance I wanted to go and he even mentioned the sun as a justification for his high price, "Yeah and the heat too." he says. I let that one comment go and we went around and around with the price and he said again how hot it was. I looked at him and said, "Did you say the sun was a factor??" And he said, "Yeah, the sun, it's hot". I said, "Man, what does that have to do with the price of a taxi ride?!" He didn't seem to have a good answer. I continued and said, "Now you can use the rain..." I said, "that is a totally acceptable excuse for raising the fare and that actually affects traffic and difficulty in getting one place to the other... but Sun?! I said, No, I'm not buying into your argument about the sun." He actually relented and say, "Okay, well you're right, but it's hot anyway and there's a lot of traffic". Luckily I finally got him down to my price and I got in the car. We had the usual chit-chat about the US and how he really wants to go to the US to make money to send him to his family. I wished him luck in that and told him how great his own country was in terms of people, the peaceful nature, the ocean, the food... my usual mantra in pumping up Senegalese about their country, which is true... and he said yeah, but we don't have money and its hard to get ahead. There wasn't really anywhere we could go with that conversation so we slipped back into silence. A few minutes later we were on the smooth road that brings us into the city and my taxi guy (a young nipper) was trying to pass another taxi. He gave a friendly honk and started to pass but I realized that even as he was increasing his speed, he wasn't managing to pass the other taxi. I realized that the other taxi guy increased his speed to keep my guy from passing. I don't know why, but that's what he was doing. Of course my driver now thought it was a personal mission to pass the other taxi guy and pushed harder down on his gas pedal too. But the whole situation was completely ridiculous because both of the taxis were practically falling apart so neither of them could really get over 40 MPH--it was clear both of them were at their top speed which I estimated about 35 MPH. I'm sorry, but you can't be a bad-ass driver at 35 MPH...no matter how much you want to be. But there we were--my driver in some of informal race with another taxi driver, as if it were a matter of pride. We were approaching a round point so I finally told my guy that the other driver was just a jerk and to let it go. I had to repeat this a few times as we came closer and closer to this roundabout....Although looking over at his face, he seemed to be having a good time having this little race and seemed reluctant to let his taxi man rival resume his place in first position. Although I wasn't nervous, at the same time I was glad it was over and I came to my final destination in one piece.

Those games we played in the 80's

Did you ever wonder where those games in the 80's we played but gave up to Salvation Army when they lay unused in the closet for several years? No? Well me neither. BUT.... I thought you would be interested to know walking back to the hotel here in Dakar the other day I passed by an informal vendor on the street who had her table out and was selling mangos. Guess what she was using as a table cloth? The Twister game 'board'!.. you remember that plastic sheet with the circles on it and having your head wedged up into someone else arm pit while you had cramps in your legs from turning them backwards just to keep on the red circle (which by the way was a prime reason why you never played more than a couple of times)... Anyway the majority of the vendors plastic sheet was hanging decoratively off the mango table... An attempt at a marketing/publicity lure for curious mango-eating customers (??).. because it is a bright and shiny with those different colored circles with a huge logo at the bottom that says... TWISTER!

What else did I see... ? Oh yes, Brook and I were coming back from dinner the other night and although there aren't a lot of homeless people in Dakar, you get some. We passed by a homeless person by our hotel sleeping outside a row of storefronts and who managed to attach a mosquito net up on to the store window and the other side of the sidewalk overhang.. in the middle of the walkway effectively. Doesn't have a home or a bed, but has a mosquito net--will travel. I'm just impressed how he managed to hang it up; that couldn't have been easy. That would be a good malaria ad actually... "Even homeless people are fighting malaria! Be Smart, Use your Mosquite Net!" ...or maybe not.

The other thing I saw actually was on the trip down to Dakar. I saw a big transporter truck. Across the top of the cabin truck were the words, "Too much is too much!" You know a lot of times people will paint prayers across the top of their vehicle, or the name of their favorite religious leader or a quote like, "A good deed is never forgotten". You know something sort of meaningful and you can sort of nod your head and say to yourself, "yes, that's true, God is Great... or "Yes, a good deal is never forgotten" I've just never seen the quote "Too much is too much"---I wonder who that was directed to... Us, the general public as some sort of blanket warning? Or perhaps themselves, the drivers, who have a tendency to excess in one area or another? I suppose I'll never know. I just know that too much is just too much.

So what is a cheeseburger anyway?

There are varying thoughts about what a cheeseburger actually is. Granted I'm sure you saw the post where in Tamba, the sign says Humburger... which may be another matter entirely... but what is a hamburger?

I just had another recent post with Senegalese 'variations upon the theme' in food. Onion soup with some potato and a cordon bleu with some mixed vegetables inside (umm-ummm!!).

One of my favorite stories is when Brook and I were traveling from Dakar to Tamba and we stopped at a tourist town to eat lunch (one we never stop at). We go to the fast food restaurant there and Brook orders a hamburger and I want to "have it all" so I order a cheeseburger. We get our burgers and start to eat. I get about 1/3 of the way in and I hadn't hit any meat yet. I was thinking, man that sure is a small burger. Now a little warning too about local burgers. You don't really put lettuce or tomatoes on your burger. What you do here is put french fries on top of your burger and then you put a lot of ketchup and maybe mayonnaise on to of that and smoosh down the bun on top. Anyway, I just want to say for the record that there is a lot of stuff in the burgers here. I'm not sure if it's the lebanese influence or what, but I've seen it in Mali too, where they stick french fries on your burger. guess it's the 'one-stop shop' for burger and fries. Anyway so I get in about 1/3 way into my burger and hadn't hit any meat. I get curious, pull off the bun and guess what? There isn't any meat. Hmm. I think to myself, well somehow (God knows how) they forgot to put the meat on. So I shuffle up to the counter and say, um, yeah... Um I ordered this cheeseburger here and somehow there is no meat on it.

The cook looks down at my 'burger' and says, oh, well you ordered the cheeseburger. Cheeseburgers come with cheese. I say, yeah, but where's the meat? And he said, You ordered the Cheeseburger (like duh, he's thinking). He explains to me patiently... see the cheeseburger comes with Cheese... not meat. He says, if you wanted the meat you should have ordered the hamburger. I stand there, unable to think of a response.

Well I finally answer, I'm not sure if you know this, but the word "burger" in English actually means meat. He looks at me. No kidding he says. I say, yeah, interesting isn't it? He says, "Well yeah here it means you get the cheese." As if that is the end of the story. And I suppose it was. I couldn't really say anything to that. I sit down and finish my cheesebuur... my cheese bun with a bunch of french fries, cheese and ketchup. Yummy. I hardly missed the burger

So given this in mind, we're coming down to Dakar the other day... I took 2 PCVs with me in the car I rented and we stop at the Blue Bird. That is Brook's favorite stop as he's not a rice and sauce fan and they have decent... you know, hamburgers. So I explain to the PCVs that their hamburgers are pretty good. I said, you know as usual, they come with french fries on them... and I said here they come with a fried egg too on top of the burger. I told them that this place takes the "Everything but the kitchen sink" approach to their burgers. But I said, if you don't want the egg, like me, you can order it without the egg. They say okay. So two of us wanted no egg, one wanted the egg (why not attitude). So off they shuffle to the bathroom and I am left with the server to order the burgers. I say, I'd like two burgers without the egg and one with the egg. And the server says so you want a cheeseburger? And I say, oh and the hamburger doesn't come with the egg? She says, no, all the burgers come with cheese. She says the hamburger comes with the egg and the Cheeseburger doesn't come with the egg. I sit there. I say, Okay, so both the cheeseburger and the hamburger come with cheese... (I want to make sure I heard correctly) and the hamburger comes with the egg. Cheeseburgers don't have egg. The server nods. Yes, she says. ...Okay... I said, alright. Then I want two cheeseburgers and one hamburger.

I confirm one more time when she comes back... I say the non-egg cheeseburgers? and she places them in front of us... and then the eggy hamburger (with cheese) goes to the other one. That's logical, isn't it?

Prelude to the next post: Mailing a letter

Although I was going to write about mailing a letter, I realized I shoudl probably give you the background of Kunaba before you could understand the context. since this post is getting long, I will break it up in two.

See I get a call from my village friend Kunaba. She says she's in Bamako, which was surprising since Kunaba doesn't travel. But she says she's staying with a friend. She told me that she had brought some things down from the village for me--(some peanuts and a letter from my good friend Siaka) ... dot dot dot. Now I know when she visited in 2003 she had said that we would trade off visits... one year she would visit me (fully subsidized by yours truly) and then another year I would visit Mali, but frankly, after her one visit I think we can say that I've had my fill of the cultural exchange.

I thought when I had invited her in the first place from Mali, since she was my best Malian friend in Peace Corps, that Senegal was practically the same thing as Mali, including a majority of people speaking Bambara here, and that she would make the efforts that I did to 'roll with the punches' in terms of toubab cultural differences. Guess who was wrong on both accounts? lalalala

Yeah, so although I woudn't say her visit was a disaster, it was highly painful. Not for her, for us. I think she had a great time. But we were dealing with several cultural differences. The first noticeable one was that in these cultures when you visit someone you can stay up to several months with someone, but the average visit is from one month to two months. Already right there we have an issue. You know Americans... our visits are maximum 2 weeks. It's just what we do. It's for everyone involved really, not just the host. Everyone enjoys a good visit and then you go away. It's what we do. Not here. My theory on that is because it's expensive and hard to travel to places, that locals just stay for awhile. Plus they do not have 'hosting' as we do really. You instantly just become a part of the household and poke around. No one hosts here, you just blend right in. All you need really need is a place to sleep and everythign else just seems to work itself out. There are usually so many people in a household anyway that there is usually someone to talk to or be 'hosted by' (in our terms) that it's no big whoop. So that was our first misunderstanding, when I asked Kunaba after her arrival how long she was staying, she said the dreaded words, "I don't know". aaaaggh. After the second week dragged on she did manage to say that 1-2 months was usually a good time for a visit.

Another issue was language. Although a lot of people speak Bambara here, not everyone does. So that freaked Kunaba out and she sat mute most of the time when people came to visit and during her time didn't really make any effort to at least greet someone in Wolof. And believe me, everyone bugged her to learn Wolof (just as I was bugged incessantly in Peace Corps as to why everyone who came from America to visit me didn't speak Bambara), but she didn't. So she was mute-face in front of company, which is fine, but that pretty much meant she didn't communicate with anyone except me.

Culturally there was the eating and socializing. Because in the village we ate out of the food bowl with our hands, that is naturally what Kunaba knows. She has never used a spoon or utinsel in her life. So that was a small issue when you had things that kind of required more than a hand, plus Senegalese always use spoons in their food bowls and were slightly freaked out to see a villager just eat with her hands. But that was their problem... but it was slightly awkward given some food choices. Now rice and millet are good things. We like them, but Brook and I don't eat it every day (especially rice... we're just not big fans). so the dinner thing posed problems. So basically Kunaba got used to (over) cookiing spaghetti and putting a maggi cube as the sauce. Yummy. And I don't know.. we figured out a few other thigns she could eat.

And she couldn't get the whole maid thing. She kept trying to include our maid into all our activities, which was sweet in one way but totally awkward in another (for both binta the maid and myself) of going to the market or hanging out. And when trying to explain that I paid Binta to work, that really didn't translate well. Kunaba said, well we'll help her finish her work and then we will all go to the market together. Awkward silence.... ummmmm, right.

And then there was the whole socializing thing. Even in Mali one does not sit and talk with someone all the time.you can hang out with someone while they are working, but it's mostly you sitting there while someone does something. and unfortunately for toubab's lives, much of the stuff that we do is not really social at all... checking email, making some phone calls, writing and reading. They're pretty solitary activities and require no assistance or interaction whatsoever--in fact that is preferable that way. So I did manage to sneak off and do some things but she really couldn't take care of herself at all. She usually would go into her room and take a nap. Actually that is what you do in the culture. If you're not with another person or working, you sleep. It's what you do. I noticed that with Brook's village brother who has come to visit too. Anyway so Kunaba slept a lot more than she was used to. Then Brook woudl come home and want to hang out but there was Kunaba and Brook can't communicate with Kunaba so both were vying for attention and there I was, sort of pooped out. Anyway, this was the situation and by the end of 2 solid weeks day after day, little Mamou (my local name) was feeling sort of psycho. I start mentioning the trip back to Mali but of course Kunaba isn't even beginning to think of leaving... Finally Brook and I devise a plan, a trip, that we both have to take so Kunaba unfortunately has to cut her visit short. We give her gifts (I had bought her cloth and other stuff) and send her on her way after 17 days. I felt every day. Luckily Kunaba had a great time, and didn't know that I was about to strangle myself and die a slow death. It was a lessons learned for me. Anyway so she goes back to the village and actually makes up all this stuff about me and how we live, etc etc. Part of it is based on truth but it just really skewed.

So when I go back to the village last year, I hear Kunaba going on and on (which I know she has been doing for the last 2 years too) about how rich I am and how I do this or that, or throw this away or don't like this or that. Her favorite one was tellign eveyrone how I hate kids (a big cultural no-no)... so all of this....her verbally flaunting my wealth to everyone and seemingly bad habits (some of which were true and many wasn't), was absolutely horrifying to me. Really. I mean the village thought I was rich when I was a Peace Corps volunteer... to have someone continually tell made-up stories about me and my wealth around town... really I was so embarrased. And a lot of times as I mentioned, the facts were not even true. It's like she took a basic fact and completely twisted it around to be something else. She is not a malacious person at all, I really think she believed what she was saying but it was so off-base. I think in many ways she was bragging about me and her being my friend, which was so not a part of her or her personality in the village, and obviously did not mean to be embarrasing, but I never really can get over it. Mostly because I know it's still going on... hearing her tell story after story about me to those who know me and strangers, just gives me the willies. I will say as a side note that one thing she made up was absolutely brilliant. She thought my brother named my nephew after my village brother, Sanie. How Joshua or Sanie is the same name is beyond me and where she got this information is beyond me, but that is brilliant. I have really banked on that lie. Sanie was just tickled pink that my brother's son was named after him, so I suppose there is one happy lie that came out of it.

So imagine, if you will, all these images from a previous visit (and those are just generalities) and how in my own mind I did not do Kunaba a service by inviting her here the first time, when Kunaba is leaving that dot dot dot open for her invitation to come to Tamba, what my reaction is. What would yours be? I feel bad for Kunaba and I do think it's mostly my fault. I think I put a taste for travel and eating 'good food' (maggi questionable) and buying cloth in the market, sleeping, etc etc in her mind. And I think (perhaps I am wrong) I made her slightly more discontent with village life. Made her want more. And who wouldn't. But I think i also helped show her somethign else and although it was meant only to spoil and relax her, I think she became aware that not everyone slaves like a dog with no days off like she does. And she has something outside of her life to want. And I think that is partly my fault because I can't give it to her on a long term. These are issues that I have to deal with. Brook said, and you wanted to bring her to America with you... I said yeah, can you imagine if she thought Senegal was the othe side of the moon in terms of culture (which obviously it is virtually the same in many ways), then she would have freaked out in the states. I guess you learn these things afterwards and can't do anything about it.

So anyway, keep this in mind for the next post when I discuss how Kunaba mails (or doesnt) me my letter.

Two Party Girls on a Saturday night

"Fat-Ass" Food

On our recent trip to another region, for breakfast I took out my handy-dandy maple and brown syrup instant oatmeal. After 4 1/2 years, eating French bread for breakfast has become tireseome, so I just BYOB when I travel.

The staff of course were instantly more chatty as soon as they realized I spoke Wolof and one of them said, "So you like 'Fat-Ass food"? as if that was normal breakfast conversation.

"Excuse me?" I said. They explained the term as being porridge-type food that women eat and their butt gets really big and you have to buy new clothes. The woman who worked there leaned over my chair, peered into my bowl and said confidentially, "So, you're looking to grow your butt, aren't you? This is big butt food." Hmm. I hadn't thought of it that way.

I said, "No, I'm not growing my butt any more..." but they were not convinced. She said, "you eat that and you'll see." I said, well this is American non fat-ass food. She said, "Ah, so American porridge doesn't grow your butt?"... I said, "Well, not generally." I said, "There are even some people who eat this food to lose weight." She was shocked. "She said, "So you're trying to lose more of your butt?" I said, "No, not really. I just like the way it tastes" I said, "Besides porridge in and of itself does not grow your butt. It's when you add a lot of butter and sugar to your bowl that you can run into problems (or into a big butt)". I don't think I won her over with that argument but I do think she realized that big butt strategies vary from country to country.

What is a cordon bleu in Senegal?

It's a francophone country. There are French people teeming around and loads of French restaurants. Let me tell you what we got at the restaurant in Kaolack.

One of my courses was a French onion soup. Brook said, Are you sure? And I said, Well at least I know they have crusty french bread and guyere cheese (and onions). I said, that's practically the whole soup anyway.

so the soup comes and there is no bread or cheese (aaaawwww) and instead there are 3 pieces of potato randomly in the soup. And I also found 3 slices of green pepper too. Hmm. Sure, there are onions, but I guess they substituted the toasted bread and cheese part with potatoes and green peppers. It was tasty all in all. Just a new version of the onion soup we all know and love.

Brook's main course was supposed to be a filet of Cordon bleu. It comes out as a beef pocket. I finally goad Brook to dissect his cordon bleu since he said he wasn't running into any cheese. He opens it up and finds some canned mushrooms, a couple of diced tomatoes and beef-ham slices. I did manage to point out a small nub of something that may have been cheese.... Brook said it was like a little pizza inside of his meat. I said, Yeah, it's like a calazone but without bread.

Looks like the people in the kitchen are looking to spice up the cuisine a bit for the customers. But many Senegalese wouldn't know the difference anyway.

Conversation at the wholesaler store

"I'd like 2 meters of this cloth" I say to one of the guys who works in the store.
He takes the cloth and measures it. "There are about 2.5 meters here" he says.
I say, "That's okay, I only need 2 meters."
He says, "well if you want this cloth you have to buy the rest of the cloth"
I say, "Why?" (knowing the answer)
He says, "Because no one is going to buy half a meter if you buy 2 meters"
And I say, "You think anyone wants 2.5 meters for anything? You can't make a Senegalese outfit out of 2.5 meters anyway."
"No matter," he says. "No one is going to buy 1/2 a meter."
So I say, "Well why should I have to pay for a 1/2 meter of cloth that I don't need or want?"
He shrugs his shoulders. Obviously that is not the point, nor his problem.
I continue to try and convince him otherwise though. I try the business angle. I say, "You're personally not taking a loss on this"

"Oh yes I am" he answers. He looks away, bored of our conversation.

I say, "But now you would be losing a customer and even more money but not having my business of buying the 2 meters."
He looks back at me. "Do you want the cloth or not?"
Now we're at the heart of the matter.

I say, "Yes. I do. I want 2 meters of it"
"You have to buy 2.5 meters"
hmmmm, we're back where we started....

"But why should I be punished for 1/2 meter someone else bought long before me, which has led us to this predicament in the first place?"

Blank face. He starts to walk away to see if there are other people in the store who are better customers than me.

I put the cloth down and figure it's not going to pan out, because now I've gotten on my high horse and feel quite principle-minded about the whole affair.

When I get home I tell Brook about the conversation. He has no sympathy. He says, "You know how things work here. You know that the person at the end of the bolt always has to buy the scraps!"

"I know, I know," I said. "I was just feeling argumentative today."

Baby Valise Revisted

So I forgot to tell you that the Baby Valise Pusher had asked me for my telephone number since we became 'friends'. So I get a missed call on my phone today, thinking it was somebody else I called back... to find out it's the Baby Valise Pusher. ... I'm like... um... who is this? realizing quickly it's not who I thought I was calling. She's like, I'm the one who went with you to buy the baby valise!! oh. I remember her. Hi! I say. So she says, Where are you? Home, I say reluctantly... realizing what the next question is going to be.... "Where is that?! I want to come over and see you!" "Um, well I've got some guests now", I mumble, "but I'll stop by the market to see you soon." She's like, "Do you know who I am? I'm the woman who helped you buy the baby valise". I said, "Oh yes. I know exactly who you are" She seemed satisfied that I was telling the truth, which I was. How could I ever forget the baby valise saga? And we left it like that.

How many days does it take to change a lightbulb?

It all started off innocently enough. The technicians from Dakar came up to service our air conditioners. It was in the middle of hot season and we found that our beloved living room air conditioner would go in and out. It was very disconcerting and there was a difference of opinion about whether it was a problem with the AC or a problem with the electric company giving us enough electricity.

The technicians came, did a full service and checked each plug. They confirmed with me that the AC's are in tip-top shape (especially now after their servicing) and that it was a problem of low "tension" (in French). I think in English it means actual wattage level. Meaning that if you are supposed to have 220, like here, you are only registering 198 (which was happening), which means you have low tension. Anyway technician dude said that the ACs need a minimum of 200 watts to run an AC and anything under that, they won't function---but just blow their fan. He said that the electric company needs to give us more tension and that can be controlled at their level.

Day One:
I said, So you can just contact them and get this changed??? I was surprised and slightly annoyed since we've had a 'tension' problem with our dining room AC since day one and knowing now that I could have done something about it was sort of depressing. He said yes, you just tell them what you have and they adjust the level in your house.

Well goodness gracious! How straight forward!! (oh little did I know). So I want to profit from the technicians visit so I make them all come to the telephone with me and call the electric company. I tell them its best that they describe the problem in full in technical speak so I would get a better reception. So doodad calls the company and talks to the receptionist who gives him a name and number. I get the technician to call him too but someone says he's out of the office traveling in Dakar. ooooh. But the person says to bring in a copy of an old bill when I come in, in person to request the tension change. Okay. that works.

Day Two: I coordinate with the project office to get a copy of one of our old bills. Brook brings it home for me.

Day Three: I go into the electric company and ask for the person I"m looking for. After stumbling into the wrong office, I am directed to the right door and I go in. I explain to the guy (who was there!) what the problem was and what we are looking for. He looks up my account on his computer. Okay he says. We will need to verify that you have low tension before we do anything about it. I will set up the visit and they will come around and check your electricity on Wednesday. I say okay. I go away.

Five days later: No electrician. I call the guy I talked too and say, Um yeah, I thought those guys were goign to show up. I waited around all day for them. The guy says, Oh, I will follow up with them and they will stop by. I say okay and hang up.

Another three days later: Still no visit. I decide to go in and talk to the people personally and see why the technicians haven't stopped around. The guy I've been dealing with is in a meeting, in fact everyone is. I am still holding my copy of my electric bill. The guardian totally gets into my business and wants to hear exactly why I want to meet with the guy and half the story. I decide to build up my social capital and I tell him. I get him involved. Then I tell him that the technicians were supposed to come already but they haven't. So I leave my electric bill copy with the guardian to give to the guy who is in a meeting. I tell him to tell him that I will come back after the sieste at 3pm.

Later on: I come back to the office and find the guythere. He is surprised. He said he had told them personally to stop by and check our electricity and they said I wasn't there. I asked him the date and time and I confirmed that in fact I was there. It was a Saturday when they stopped by. He was surprised and said he will schedule another visit. I thank him and go away.

Still later on: I talk with Binta the maid and ask her. We check around and the technicians did come on Saturday. They were around the corner and accidently when to the adjacent building which is attached to our house. The guardian directed them to just go around the corner and that's where our door is. The technicians said, "ah forget it" and they went away.

Three days later at 8pm: I get a doorbell ring. The technicians have come!!! They don't come in fully into the house. they only check our box at the front door. At the moment we were having tension problems so I was trying ot get them to come into the dining room to experience the non-tension. They refuse saying they can see everything from the control box. They check our 2 lines in the house and confirm low tension (Hooray, it is now official we have low tension). So I ask the technician what is the next step. Technician says that someone will contact me. But when? who will contact me? What is going to happen? He mumbled something but it was distinctly Unclear. He wasn't going to give me any other information so I dropped it. I decided to follow up with my guy again.

Two days later: I call my contact at the company and ask him if he had heard from the technicians (since no one had contacted me). No he says. No one said anything to me he says. I will follow up. I say okay and hang up.

Next day: I call him again and say, well what's the skinny. He says yes, they have confirmed low tension at your house. I say, Yes, so what is the process now? He says the technicians will come out and change it. I say okay.

Later on: I alert Binta and the staff to a possible visit from the electric company. I have to travl to Dakar for work and then Brook and I are going on vacation. I give her the name of our AC technician just in case anyone is confused.

Three weeks later: Brook and I return from vacation at the end of the month. About three days previous the technicians stopped by with a work order for our tension! YAY!!! But they request I stop in beforehand.

One day later: I go into the company and show the paper around. They say, Ah... okay, well you have to pay a fee and THEN we will schedule a visit to change your electricity. Sigh* Okay. So I sit down with another person and we go over all our appliances in the house. They come up with a figure that I owe them. Their computers aren't working so the guy just writes a figure on a piece of paper that I owe. I say, I can't give this to the office to pay, can you stamp it or make it official? He says no that they will stamp it when I pay. Okay, okay.

I say, by the way, since we've gotten back we've had our electricity short out on us several times. (I had called in my local technician guys to research it.. everyone was miffed and can't figure out why our electricity was shorting out... it was random and with different machines). Anyway, I say, yes, we've been having these shortage problems. The guy says come back tomorrow if it happens again and you can fill out a complaint form. I said, well it just happened last night again. He said, okay you can fill out the form now. So he directs me to someone else in the same room who had been following my process. She says, Okay, I need a copy of your old electric bill.

sigh*

I say, you guys already have it. I had given it to so-and-so. She says oh. Well I need that to write anything down so go get it back from so-and-so. I say Okay. I wander to my original contact's room and tell him that I need the copy of my bill back that this woman needs it to process my complaint form (or work order form). His desk is filled and I think he and I know that my bill is lost forever. He says, come with me. The lady had gone somewhere else. He sits at her desk and fills out the form himself about the electricity shorts at our house (without the old bill). Whew. I am pleased. I thank him and go away.

The following Monday: I bring my book, my checkbook, cash, my passport and some water to the company to patiently wait in line to pay my bill. I know these general payment rooms are always packed and the wait is long. I find out who is last in line and sit down and start to read my book. Someone else comes in. I manage to get through a couple of exciting chapters in the meantime. The guy behind me, a 'white collar' educated worker decides that our line system in this room (filled with chairs) is not efficient enough. He suggests that everyone sit side by side and when one person gets up the next person scoots over and sits in his seat. So we all move seats (like musical chairs) and sit in line that way. How ridiculous I think to myself. But I'm actually sick at this point and I don't feel like arguing. Finally other people start to listen to this guy behind me and everyone shuffles over to sit in line in the seats. There are about 25 people in front of me. So we sit in our little chairs and when one person gets up we all scoot over. It was a totally ridiculous process, especialy since everyone know who was following who in the first place. Plus you are scooting around the whole time, I make several appropriate disapproving under-my-breath clicking noises at the guy who proposed, rather imposed, this seating arrangement on the rest of us. I did manage to tell him as we were scooting seats that this process was not necessary and a waste of time. He chose to ignore me. Again, i didn't want to get in a fight. I just wanted to pay my bill. And finally, an hour said and done in total, I paid my bill. Hooray.

I take my bill and receipt and look for someone to schedule our visit to the house to upgrade our tension. I'm very excited. Luckily I ended up being in the same room with the scheduler And the technician.The technician is aware of our issue and says he will come tomorrow. Double hooray! I sense the end is near. I am pleased. I tell him if he can look at our electricity short problem too, that would be great. My contact assures me that the technician will tkae care of everything. I thank him and go away.

THE NEXT DAY: The technician actually comes. He opens up the box, unscrews some stuff and fiddles around. He tells me that one of my previous local technicians has upgraded our electricity from a 10 to a 30 without their permission and in fact that there is a fee associated with that. I said, oh really? We had no idea. So I guess one of our many technicians in the past gave us a free upgrade. So he said that when he originally came by to check our tension level he noticed that what we were noted at as having one electricity level (10) and what we actually had (30) was different. So he came while we were gone and changed our electricity level back to the original low level, which of course could not support the applicances in our house. I was angry and said, that's all well and good, but this process was not transparent and you should have clearly informed us. I said of course we had no idea this had happened, but why didn't you tell us? I said how stressed out we were at this probelm the past week with all our appliances shorting out, and couldn't figure out what it was. I told him how hard it was on our appliances too. He said that he told the guardian but that I was right in that he should have told us what he did.

Punch Line:
I said, what about the tension issue? he said our post, far away from the company, was the furthest away and that our tension level was as high as it was going to get. That the amount of electrricity coming to our house was different than tension. Doih! He said that the company had signalled this as a problem to the head Dakar office and that they were going to change the post so that more tension could come in the future. I said, okay. When? He said it's been programmed. I said for when? he said normally by the end of the year. (well obviously we're gone by the end of the year).

So the upshot is that we paid for what we've already had. He cut it while we were gone and then gave it back to us after we pay an exorbinent amont, but of course the tension (the original problem) is still the same. Ta-daa!!!

4th of July

Well all the Peace Corps volunteers went to a regional town for a big pig fest. Otherwise I was planning on putting on a big shindig here. Luckily that didn't pan out since I was sick with something last week. I barely had the time and energy to put a small gig on for the 4th.

But let me tell you about these beautiful fluffy buns I made the other night. For me, they were the highlight of the whole experience. Big, fat hamburger buns! Hooray. My baby bread puffed up so well and nice. I loved him.

and I made the ubiquitous potato salad (yaaawwwn) and Brook made a daikon/cole slaw. The vegetarian intern came over with some hummus and some deviled eggs; and I made a lemon meringue pie and some cookie dough ice-cream for dessert. Of course there were 1/2 pound cheeseburgers on the grill too, Please! the most important part. Outside of my baby buns. I had to make the burgers huge to compete with my monster buns. There is absolutely no fat on the meat here so we succeed at having 100% lean hamburgers. The bad side about this is the hamburger tends to crumble... there is nothing to hold it together! I usually have to use eggs as a binder.

John, Brook's boss came over too so we spent the day munching on Pringles and the vegetarian's hummus and drinking white wine. I supplemented my diet with about 1/4 of the recipe of cookie dough for my ice-cream. Mind you I still managed to pack down my big cheeseburger when the the time came.

My meringue started to collaspe over time and I realized this morning why. There were photo inserts that fell in the middle of the meringue recipe which I didn' see until this morning. I thought i had read through the entire recipe. Whoops. Well at least now I have an explaination as to why it fell. Brook says the taste is really good, being a flat or puffy pie face.... still I am disappointed that my meringue got all weepy. Oh well.

I have just completed a huge saga (oh yes, yet another one) with Senelec, the electric company, which I will share with you shortly. Here are some happy snappies of our recent trip to bangkok and rome.

What's charcoal grey gunk doing in my hair?

That I don't know. I couldn't even put a comb through my hair after getting settled in from my trip from Tamba to Dakar today (9am-8pm). Outside of the fact we nearly beat the longest transit time between Tamba and Dakar..... a whoppin' 11 hours today. Oh yes folks. It took 11 hours to go 250 miles. I was ready to die. Never mind the fact that you could go to the states and partway back for that time period....

You know I even had a moustache of dirt on my face. Who needs sunblock when you have dirtblock? I wonder if I can market that... but I'm not sure why the dirt in my hair is charcoal grey? Is it car exhaust plus dirt? Usually dirt is brown... anyway I know I shouldn't be spending time talking about these things here.

I was going to tell you about the big rigamarole (what??? here, a rigamarole??) about getting a replacement part for our generator last week, but I'm pooped so I will save this for another day. for the moment you will have to be pleased hearing about gunky black dirt. What an exciting post...almost as exciting as finally getting to Dakar.

The search for a baby valise

Tamba market

*note: toubab means 'foreign' or 'french' or 'white' people

An innocent trip to the market on Friday to search for traditional baby gifts. I stop by a vendor at her table selling local incense and start my little spree here. I get a couple of bags of insence and then ask her for some additional ideas for local traditional gifts.. I want to make sure that I have a full variety of local gifts. So this woman says the essential Senegalese baby gift is a "baby valise" (baby suitcase). I am suspicious. It sounds toubab to me. I say, uh huh... I say, this baby valise is traditional Senegalese? She says, oh yes. Before you get anything you need to buy a baby valise. She says "I'll go buy one and bring it back to you." I'm still not convinced. I tell her I want to see exactly what this baby valise is, so I sit down on this little bench and wait for her to finish filling up her jars with more incense so we can go look.

So then we shuffle over to the main part of the market and we go to a vendor who supposedly sells the baby valises. He pulls out (guess what) a carry-on suitcase, Made in China. Hmmm.! I didn't figure that was coming (not) I look at it and say, um, that's way to big to mail to the states.

The last thing that anyone wants in the states is a chinese carry-on suitcase and the last thing I want to do is pay to ship a cheap, chinese carry-on suitcase mocking as a baby valise to someone in the states. So now that my suspcions have been confirmed that the baby valise is just some toubab suitcase, I tell the woman that I actually don't need a suitcase and I'm looking for senegalese-made items. She says she understands that she'll take me to somewhere else.

But guess what? She's not done hunting down a baby valise--I can tell it's become her mission, even though I tell her that I don't really want one. Sigh, so I follow on reluctantly behind her trying to scout one down. Several vendors later, we find someone who says, "Yes! I have a baby valise!" and he pulls out a cheap, plastic foldable baby bag.. Made in ... guess where? CHINA!!!

So I say, um, yeah, but I'm looking for traditional Senegalese gifts. And they both look at me and they say, "This is Senegalese!" And although it's clear that it's not Senegalese and made in China, no amount of discussion leads them to believe that they're not dealing with a traditional Senegalese gift. So somehow in the last 10-15 years the baby valise is somehow deeply routed in the psyche of Senegalese...??

Still the woman and the vendor are looking at me expectantly and the woman is enviously eying the new, shiny baby valise that I'm slightly frowning at and turning over in my hands. hmmm mmm. she says to me quietly but a bit pushy, "Now you have to ask him how much it is! Remember he's my friend so he will give you a good price." Obviously the last 15 minutes of discussion of how I don't want a baby valise has meant nothing. So I sigh and ask the vendor how much he is selling his baby valise for. $12 he says. so I half-heatedly bargain for the baby valise cursing myself for asking a stranger in the first place about 'traditional' senegalese gifts when I already know the answers myself...so as punishment I am bargaining for a plastic baby valise I don't want. Okay, I get it down to $6. I can deal with that. The vendor and woman are immensely pleased with my purchase. They look at each other as if they've accomplished a great thing: selling the ever-traditional baby valise to an unknowledgable toubab. I think they must have thought that I just didn't know "quality" when I saw it.

Now they have the baby valise problem solved, they both try and sell me plastic toubab baby shoes, toubab powder and cheap perfume..... oh no.. we're not getting into that. I say, no I"m looking for traditional baby sandals.

The woman didn't push too hard for the clothes and the little plastic shoes... I think she knew what a feat it was to sell me the baby valise... I guess she realized I was too much work. So we go to another vendor who sells flip-flops. I get the smallest size and am wondering how to make my grand exit. The woman asks again about powder, clothes and perfume. I lie to her and say I've already bought them. Luckily she doesn't press.

Finally we walk back to her stand where I've parked my moped. she says, Yeah, since we're friends now and I've helped you find your baby gifts, I think you should buy me $2 worth of phone credit. I say, "Oh yeah?" I say usually I didn't think that new friends asked other people for money and that friends did services for their friends because they're friends." That didn't seem to sink in. She's like, "Well friends help each other. I've helped you and you help me now". sigh outloud. I'm tired.

we go back to her stand where I'm confronted by a rotund wolof woman who's heard we've been baby valise shopping. I bring out the baby valise for everyone to gawk at and everyone asks me how much I pay. They nod in agreement at the good price I got. Now the wolof woman is kind of pushing me and saying I should give her some money. I laugh and tell her it's coming later. She does a little dance and she demands, "Pay me a fee for dancing for the baby'. I do a little dance and tell her that she needs to pay me for dancing for her instead. That doesn't work but I get a laugh from others.

She insists on me giving her money for dancing for the baby and several woman are watching on to see how I react. God I'm tired. Okay. so I smile and ask 'Are you wolof" and she says yes and I said, "ah-ha! I knew it. All Wolofs are only interested in money!' that gets a laugh all around but she doesn't back off. I'm not nervous but I'm starting to become a little uncomfortable that the usual jokey responses aren't working... I try to pass but she won't let me. I say a little joke but she presses me again with the money. I didn't feel threatened but she was surpassing social norms in the interchange. The other woman are starting to become embarrassed and ask the woman to please let me through. Finally she does. My new baby valise "friend" now quits drops any further hints at my buying her a phone card given the embarrasing exchange about money a minute ago, but in good form I buy a bottle of incense from her for .50 cents for her help. She knows that's fair. I take my baby valise and head home.

The Mother's Day Flower Fiasco

Okay so get this.

I had flowers ordered for Mother’s Day. I ordered them well in advance so mother could get some tulips. She loves tulips and I wanted to remind her of our trip to Holland when I was younger. They were supposed to be delivered on Saturday unless I wanted to pay $24 more for a Sunday delivery (I did not). Anyway, Sunday morning comes and no email from mother saying she had gotten the flowers. Finally in the afternoon I catch her online and say, Um, so you didn't get any deliveries? And she said, no..should I have? And I said, yeah. She checked her front porch again but there was nothing and not even a note.

Hmm. So I call the company I use for the flower delivery and they say that they had gotten confirmation on Saturday that the flowers were about to go out. So company calls the florist. Now mother gets a call from the florist because the florist had delivered the flowers.

So what happened was that the florist accidentally delivered to 108 South Washington instead of 108 North Washington. Now before I go further, you have to understand the deal. Sometimes people get confused with mother's address. I'm not really sure why... I mean north surely is clearly different from south, but whatever. People sometimes mix up the addresses. This has happened before actually with the current resident of 108 South Washington. In fact, during Christmas when Brook and I sent some packages to mother for Christmas, the post office accidently delivered a few of them to South Washington. And even mother had a package mailed to herself that was delivered to South Washington. Luckily mother tracked the package and everyone had it shown as delivered so they figured that it had been delivered to South Washington. The post master goes to South Washington to inquire and guess what? This chick had opened up our Christmas presents, one of which was a DVD, was plopped on the couch watching our DVD!!!!! Can you believe that? The cheek! Anyway the post office felt bad and paid for a new unwrapped DVD for mother which was nice and we got the rest of our stuff back. So given this as a background, the horror of finding out that mother's flowers had been delivered to the same chick. And obviously this chick does not have the track record of returning things that are not hers.

So it was confirmed by the florist that they had delivered to the South Washington address. And no peep from her trying to track down whose flowers they are, even though there was a card addressed to mother saying Happy Mother’s Day Love from Brook and Anne.

So the florist feels really bad, but they are now out of tulips (because the chick at 108 South Washington took our tulips) and she has to do another arrangement. I was livid. The florist was very accomodating and as you can see made a huge arrangement with more flowers for mother for free (to replace the tulips that were delivered to that horrible little woman down the way).

So I tell mother to give me the telephone number of the woman at South Washington that I'm gong to call her up and tell her to give back mother's tulips. Mother wont' do that but says maybe she will walk down there... She actually talks to a police person (mother of course is on good terms with all of them) and tells her the situation... that it has been confirmed that the flowers were delivered to her and this is not the first time she has tried to keep our stuff. So the police woman goes down there and talks to the chick.

So evidently what happened was the chick keeps the flowers (obviously). Her boyfriend comes over. The chick gives mother's tulips to her boyfriend who gives them to His Mother for mother’s day yesterday!!!! Can you believe the cheek! So the police woman said that the rightful owner wanted her flowers (surprise) and made the boyfriend go back to his mother's house and get OUR flowers back from his mother (can you imagine) so mother can get her flowers. Unbelievable!!! If this woman hadn’t already done this before with 2 or 3 other things that were delivered there accidently, perhaps I wouldn’t get *as* worked up. But by God if she’s going to take the an expensive arrangement I paid for and pretend that she bought it!

Mother and I agree that we feel bad for the boyfriend's mother. Obviously she knows now that the flowers were not bought for her and her son pretended that he had. Supposedly the boyfriend says he didn’t know where the flowers came from (I'm sure) and apologized to the police. Anyway, I’m sure his mother is making him feel guilty. He gave his cell phone number to the police for mother to call so he can apologize.

Anyway, that was the saga yesterday. I suppose the upside is that mother gets two arrangements for the price of one! Here is a picture of the latest arrangement + the recuperated tulips. Anyway, justice has been done and all is well that ends well. The End