One month at site. My life.

So I have been at site for a month. I installed in Thianguey on November tenth, and now, sitting at the regional house (a peace-corps owned house for volunteers in the Kedougou area to use) I decided it's about to try to collect my thoughts, and maybe try to summarise how my life has been for the past 30 days.

Now is the harvest time. Every day, I wake up after a night of Methloquin (my malaria medicine) induced dreams, which are incredibly vivid. I usually wake up to the sound of cows mooing, donkeys braying, chickens crowing, sheep bah'ing (and yes, all of these strange animal nose verbs have pulaar equivalents) around 6:30. I wake up, and walk through my family compound (the collection of huts in which all my extended family lives, about 20 huts scattered over an acre or so, along with all the animals too) and I greet everyone, asking people if they slept well, assuring them that evil did not wake them up, asking if they became sick during the night, and so on. The answer to all of these questions is "peace only." Then I have breakfast, usually last night's dinner of couscous and sauce, sometimes with a side of mbouri (corn balls in a syrup) or laro, a corn peanut oatmeal kind of thing. Then, I go to the field!
I'm a food security volunteer here, so now being harvest time, I've been going with lots of different farmers to their field to help out, see farming techniques, and see, generally, the state of agriculture in my village. So, I've picked cotton, "broken" corn and sorgum, dug up peanuts, cut rice and funio (a protein-rich grain) and then processed them-- with corn and peanuts, that means hitting them to knock the nuts off the plants or to "crack" it. We also do a fair amount of fence building, transport of crops, and so on. It's about two months of constant work, usually from early in the morning (7 or so) until lunch time (some people come home, some people have lunch at the field) then a couple hours of break during the hot hot hot afternoon, (maybe 12-4) then work until the sun goes down. (around 7.)
Then I go home, go to the pump and fill up a container with water, take a bucket bath (no explanation necessary) have dinner (usually couscous and some kind of sauce), people drink tea (that is, a tiny cup of tea and a lotttt of sugar) then, I usually go to bed pretty soon. While I read in my hut and relax, everyone else puts on their nicest clothes, and walks around the village, greeting everyone, sharing food and tea, and eventually going to one house with electricity and watching television in a huge group. Needless to say, when it's dark and I have no electricity and have been working in the field all day, got up at 6ish, and have been thinking as hard as I can to try to speak Pulaar, I am in no mood to walk around or watch bizarre American movies dubbed into French at 9 at night. I'm in bed by 8:15, almost every night, fast asleep by 9. 

So that is what I do every day. But I guess it's more interesting to think about how I actually feel about living my day-to-day life, because literally billions of people live basically just what I wrote, every day, although most of them do not keep blogs. Living in a village of 500ish people, about an hour away from even a small town, and 40km from a town where I can, for example withdraw money, is very different even from my earlier homestay in suburban Dakar. Also, of course, I'm the only white person for quite a ways, and most of the kids in my village (maybe 1/3 of the population) have never seen a  white person (called a Toubob, or a Tubaco, or a Porto.) So, everyone is very very interested in everything I do. Most people, having only seen white people/Americans on TV, think that all Americans are beautiful, rich, never work, all have guns, and generally never have problems. This makes me the item of significant attention. People think I (or, all white people) can't farm, work, don't get hurt or sick, and that life is just generally easy for me. All of this leads to people paying me considerable attention: kids follow me around in groups chanting my name, everyone wants to greet me, people consider it an honor to have me come to their field, people offer me their children to take to America, and people are fascinated by the cuts on my hands from working in the field. 

In America, I'm a little bit shy, vocal about my opinions but definitely not a person who is constantly social. Here, as a white person and living in a tiny village, I don't have that option. That, of course, is stressful. If I want to read by myself in the afternoon, I can go into my dark hut, or sit outside, but kids will usually come up to me, and ask "why is their hair on your arms?," "why is there a cut on your hand?," "can I borrow your bike pump?," or "can you take me to America?"  I want to be by myself a little (a very important aspect of American life, if you think about it, especially with "computer time") but that is unheard of here. People think it's bizarre I read by myself at night, and will knock on my door after I've "gone to bed" to ask why my light is on, or if I've seen their chicken, or why I don't want to come have tea rather than sleeping.

So, every day is stressful. I am adjusting, but I know actually "integrating," like everyone talks about, is a myth. I am going to stick out forever, people will always think I am somehow different or better, and my skin is always going to be different. I am going to want to read at night, I'll want to go walk in the woods, and sometimes I'll prefer a food that isn't couscous. It's been a month on site, and I'm learning a lot of Pulaar, a lot about agriculture, making a lot of connections with NGOS and hard-workers in towns around here, and generally just trying. Life is hard, and intense, and everyday leaves me exhausted, my head hurting, my hands blistered, and constantly thirsty. I also, however, feel like I'm learning a lot, figuring out possible projects (A new water pump at the school to make a garden there? A room for storing seed? A program to make bathrooms for the village?) and that I am adjusting, life is good, and I am having a great time. Every day is still a  physical (farming) mental (learning Pulaar) and emotional (being stared at like a TV) rollar coaster. It's pretty good. The honeymoon is over (thanks Tristan!) but now I'm figuring out how my next two years will be.

Okay, tired now. Hope this update clears up why I haven't posted in a month!