Lougs

Life moves at a pretty relaxed pace in Louga. I think that a lot of it has to do with the fact that all the roads are covered in sand, making it just a little more difficult to get to one place from another. Whether you’re walking, sitting in a horse-drawn cart, or on the back of a moto you should probably count on traveling slowly enough to have quick conversations with friends in passing. Far away from the hustle and bustle of Dakar, I have kept myself busy while also enjoying the quiet moments I get to myself. I’ve grown accustomed to sitting out on our balcony right before supper time, and admiring the newly appeared stars and the cool evening breeze. As I approach the end of my third week here I wanted to do a brain dump of some updates and other observations that have arisen since I arrived in Louga.

• My research is going pretty well. I decided to change my topic a little bit and focus on local daaras (Koranic schools) in the area. A portion of the USAID/Basic Education project that I had been researching before concerned the “modernization” of the daaras, or basically the introduction of French and other subjects to a curriculum that used to focus solely on memorizing the Koran. I want to explore the dynamics between traditional methods of education, increased government involvement in the daaras, and foreign aid. I’ve gotten a lot of material and interviews, now I just need to sit down and start writing. 
• I still don’t understand how names work here. For example I call my host mom “Binta” which I assumed was her first name, until I noticed that her children call her that, too. Then I decided that maybe “Binta” means “mom” in the Serer language (their ethnic background), but the kids also refer to her as “yaay,” or “mom” in Wolof. Maybe they just have multiple names for her. Also little Tacko, is usually called Maman and I’ve met a few men here named Papa. Also, I am having the most terrible time of trying to remember names of people in my office. I’m bad enough to memorizing names, but when I’m faced with names that I’m unfamiliar with (like Ndiaye, Cassé, Ndiagne, Mbaye, etc) my brain literally cannot process them. I should start making flashcards. 
• Speaking of interesting names, one of my favorite co-workers at the office is a man named Cissokho. I’m not sure if that’s his last or first name. Whereas everyone else has both labeled on their doors, his door only reads CISSOKHO in a capitals. He’s a tall, gangly 50-ish old chap with a lazy eye who doesn’t really say too much. All the other men in the office wear long boubous or business suits, but he always sports a crazy patterned button-up short sleeved shirt with jeans, and a bright red baseball cap. We usually talk for a bit after afternoon prayers and while we wait for our rides. I’m not totally sure why, maybe it’s the fact that he wears jeans, but there’s something very familiar about him and I always feel at ease when we’re together. Plus he always fist-bumps me whenever we see each other. 
• I wake up to “Chariots of Fire” and get ready to “My Heart Will Go On” every single morning. I have no idea what station my family listens to, but for some reason they like to blast the radio and listen to these two songs right before breakfast. Sometimes the station will play “My Heart Will Go On” twice in a row. 
• Before living in Louga, I was under the impression that roosters crow once a day, when the sun rises. I was completely wrong, at least when it comes to Senegalese roosters. Each morning there is a cacophony of rooster calls starting at 6-ish usually until I sit down for breakfast around 7:30.
• Even if you have some symptoms of malaria, you probably don’t have malaria, you’re just being a baby. 
• As I mentioned before, everyone here calls me “Tacko.” “Tacko” sounds a lot like “d’accord” or “ok.” I say “d’accord” a lot, especially when I have no idea what is going on (which is very often). This means that sometimes I feel like an idiot who can only knows how to say her own name, or a Pokemon (hey I never said these updates/observations would be profound or important). 
• The concept of cleanliness is different here. Everyday my supervisor vigorously sweeps his desk, printer, cabinets, etc with a little hand broom. He then sprays the room down with perfume. He totally ignores the piles of paper on the floor behind the desk, or the completely overflowing trashcan. My family eats all of our meals on the floor … but the floor is probably swept and cleaned more often than any dining room table in the US. Little stuff like that. 
• A few men snap their fingers snap at me for my attention. At first I was like, “Oh hell no, b—-, please” until I realized that these particular men do it to basically everyone. Also still trying to get used to people going “pssst-psst” at me to get me to notice them. Again something that is fairly common and not considered to be offensive here, but strange to me.
• I got my first traditional Wolof dress made! It’s gorgeous (will try to post photos later) and I feel like a princess in it. However, it’s a little constricting in terms of walking, especially since I tend to take long quick strides. So basically I look like royalty until I start moving. Then I look more like a new born colt that’s always on the verge of falling over its own feet. Everyone in my family/office thinks it’s hilarious and and tells me “doucement, doucement” or basically, “Slow down, girl.” I just tell them that Americans like to walk fast then continue [read: struggle] on my way.
• Wednesday evening marked the end of the year in the lunar calendar for Muslims. The new year celebration is called Tamkharit and it’s one of the big fetes in Senegalese culture. For dinner that night our family had a huge meal of couscous, chicken, and sauce viande (meat sauce) drizzled on top for good measure. Afterwards, all of my little siblings covered their faces in white powder and some even switched clothes with a family member of the opposite gender. Once preparations were completed, I joined them as they took to the streets. While beating with sticks on plastic buckets, the older kids would shout “TAJABOON” and everyone else would reply “WALEY!” They went door to door in this manner, asking for treats (sound familiar?). If a family gave the customary rice, candy, or money the kids would give a little dance to show their gratitude. So much fun and a chance to get to know my neighbors (and eat snacks after dinner). 
• I have had the worst cold for the last two weeks and it makes me feel so homesick! Anyone know where a girl can get some chicken noodle soup in this joint, please? Luckily my family is wonderful and makes me drink ataaya almost constantly (although I am overloading on sugar over here), and doesn’t even bat an eye when I go into my room for a nap in the middle of the day and come out hours later looking groggy and totally out of it. 
• My stomach has finally adjusted to the Senegalese meal times. I no longer feel starving after a mere chunk of baguette for breakfast and am not plagued by hunger pangs during the long break between lunch and dinner. 
• After a short time where I thought my French was becoming really good, I think my brain has started to reject the language. English keeps slipping into my conversations with co-workers and yesterday I forgot the word for “go” (which is basically the first word you learn in French 101). 

All is well here. I’ve got sand everywhere and I dream of using a real flushing toilet, but I am so thankful for my amazing host family and the support of the people I work with at l’IA. Also thanks to Ira Glass and Peter Segel for hosting really great NPR shows and lulling me to sleep every night with their angelic voices. 

PS
Forgot my camera. Will post photos next week!

PPS
I really wanted to form some sort of combo word/pun with “Louga,” “lougie,” and “blog” but couldn’t come up with one. Will take suggestions in the comments. Bonus if you can also use “beluga.” 
** bloLugie?