Latrine Project Progress

As many of you know, I recently worked on a project to increase the amount of latrines in my village. Latrines were obviously lacking in my village, with a total of 4 for a population over 350. Many of you donated to my project and I raised over  $ 1,774 for the completion of the latrines. Thank you everyone for donating, or even discussing my project back in America. It means a lot and has really changed the face of my village. The entire project went amazingly smoothly, and was completed in a matter of weeks! After the village was all informed at a town meeting about the project, each family was responsible for the digging of a one meter by one meter pit. The pits would then be "capped" in order they were finished. A local mason, Kali, came to my village and trained six men in the process and skills of constructing a latrine, over the course of an entire day. Then, they divided into teams of three- Bubakar Soiree, Al-Juma Diallo, and Souleyman Ba for the west side of my village  and Saka Sisikoh, Jelliba Diallo, and Abduliah Seck on the east. Each group constructed 13 latrines in the course of five days. Now, over 80% of the villagers have access to a latrine. Here's some smiling recipients:

This is Hasana Diallo, a great friend of mine! And his beautiful new latrine, complete with ventilation tube and locally made bamboo fencing.

This is Jeneba Diallo, and her son Samba Seck.

The project was a great success, and 28 latrines were constructed by March. The six trained masons have since gotten other masonry work and are honing their trade. About a week ago, an NGO (La Lumiere) came to my village, with the invitation of the President of the Rural Community. They conducted a lengthy training on village hygiene, including the health benefits of latrine use and the unhealthy aspects of going "behind the fence," as we say in Pulaar. They convinced the remaining 14 compounds without a latrine to dig as well, basically through publicly shaming them and explaining the process of the spread of germs. Now they are saying they are "forced" to dig,  because otherwise the flies will bring waste onto their food. The rainy season is coming though, so they all started digging immediately.  I decided to increase funding for my project with a grant from Appropriate Projects though Water Relief. With the left-over materials from the first latrines, this 500$ grant will be enough to bring my village to 100% latrine availability! And "open air defecation" can be ended, a phrase my friend Hasana now can't stop saying. 

I just wanted to sincerely thank everyone for all the support for this project. Within a few weeks, my village  will have gone from less than 10% latrine availability to 100%. At the initial meeting, at which the project was announced, we were sitting around the storage shed for the village grain. People were weighing their various grains-- corn, rice, sorghum, and fonio. After I explained the project, and the way the latrines would be constructed and maintained, one ornery old man, Cellou Kante, asked me "Souleyman [my Senegalese name,] aren't you here to work with farming? What does [expletive deleted]ing have to do with farming?" Another elder, Thierno Mamadou Diam, replied "Old man, latrines bring health. Health is a foundation for everything we do. A young man or and old coot like you can't work if their body is not well. A sick man does not farm. These latrines will bring us the health to work hard." I really can't say it better than that. Thank you all, and thank you sincerely from the 350 residents of Thianguey. My dad, Samba Sisiko, wanted me to tell you to thank all the donators. He said "America is far away, but it is sweet." 

Views of Conflict in a Bordering Nation, the case of Senegal

Hi! First post in a long time, lots going on in village. Since my last post, I went to America, came back, and am now just about to begin construction on 30 pit latrines throughout my village. Today, though, I wanted to post about something else: the ongoing conflict in Mali. First, however, I need to emphasise: I am not identifying with any political affairs of issues of this or any other country. I am not trying to make a political statement in regards to any actions of the Senegalese or any other governments. I am simply trying to provide some local information in order to better contextualise and frame the ongoing conflict in Mali, and by extension, much of West Africa.  As many of you know, the Malian government is currently being assisted by various countries to combat an insurgency in the northern half of the country, an area approximately the size of France.

 After a massive infusion of guns into Libya in 2011, the Tuareg ethnic minority in northern Mali gained an edge in their ongoing (since 2004) struggle for independence. This led to a  coup in Mali, as mutinying soldiers overthrew  the elected government of Mali, claiming that it was not taking the rebellion in the north seriously enough. Captain Amadou Sonogo, a leader in the coup, had formerly" participated in several U.S.-funded International Military Education and Training (IMET) programs in the United States, including basic officer training,”  according to the U.S. military's Africa Command. The new Malian government promised to "wage a total and relentless war" on the separatists. Since then, various foreign powers have vied for control in the region, including foreign jihadists, Tuareg groups, and armies of several nations.  As someone interested in conflict and reasonably close to the region, I was very interested in how much of an effect I would see, “on the ground,” of the invasions and interventions next door. Violence in Senegal is very unlikely, as the fighting is in remote and distant areas of northern Mali, and Senegal is used to conflict in nearby zones: every country which borders Senegal, besides The Gambia, has experienced atleast one coup in the past few years.

Although most of the refugees fleeing Mali have been going to Niger, Mauritania, and Burkina-Faso, the conflict is visible in Senegal on the ground, even in the relatively remote area of Kedougou. As an official Mali/Senegal border crossing, the region of Kedougou sees quite a bit of traffic going between the two countries, including a large amount of trucks, going through at all hours of the day. The border crossings have been very busy, though the traffic may be a different sort than normal.  Increasingly, they are empty 18-wheelers, leaving Mali in giant convoys, heading north to the Dakar region. One night coming back into Kedougou from Tambacounda, well over 200 trucks, all empty, passed us. Other people have left as well: in the weeks after the coup, NGO trucks-- white Toyota Land Cruisers, left in droves. As the fighting came closer to Bamako, the capital, many international organizations closed shop and left the country. Later on Senegalese trucks marked “Surveillance and Intervention,” passed through the area, onwards into Mali.

The Senegalese army sent 500 troops to fight in Mali, and soldiers have been dispatched to this region, to protect the border, and more recently, to reduce illegal immigration, especially to the gold mines in the north east of the region. At the county seat of Saria, in the east of the Kedougou region, the soldiers assembled for calisthenics on the basketball field, before heading off to Bomako .The army thus has a much more visible presence-- trucks of soldiers in Kedouogou is now a common sight.

The conflict has affected people whose livelihood depends on border crossing. Although I haven't seen the changes on the Senegalese/Mali border, a Senegal/Guinea border post is very close to my village. The security there seems to be increased, as a “suspicious character” was arrested at the border, and detained. He didn't speak any local languages, and apparently had ties to Pakistan. It turned out he was an visiting student from England, and he was released after detention and questioning. Even the AP wrote about it. Other suspects have been arrested in other areas of the country. A heightened border security certainly reduces some people's ability to earn a living, as many people in rural villages travel to various weekly markets, selling vegetables, consumer products, and the like. Many run a circuit, back and forth across the border, to reach as many markets as possible. Border enforcements certainly makes that more difficult, I have seen. Even for volunteers, internal security has been more apparent, as apparent foreigners are being paid more attention. At a routine security check on the national highway, the police officer looked around in the mini-bus a volunteer was in, pointed at the North African herders that were sitting in a group together and said, "I don't know you guys," and asked for identification cards.

The ongoing conflict is a major topic of conversation in village as well. Hillary Clinton's visit to Dakar and Algeria (to encourage participation in the Malian conflict) was discussed, but most people in my village were against getting involved. A friend of mine told me a Pulaar proverb, when arguing why Senegal should not send troops: “War does not eat leaves and grass.” At the same time, the perception that most of the combatants in Mali are of north-African “Arab” descent has led to more discrimination against “Nareebe,” a West African ethnic slur for Arabs, deriving from the Arabic word for fire and memories of conflict and raids. The Mauritanian population in the Kedougou area seems to be under increasing scrutiny, and checkpoints have increased in number around the country. A man in my village who often goes to go work in a fish factory in Mauritania said he will not going this year, as “Arabs can't be trusted.” The Lebanese population already received some criticism, and the threat of “terrorists” fleeing Mali to come to Senegal, has lead to increasing distrust of people of North African and Arab descent, atleast in my area.  Now that Senegal has sent some troops and the conflict has received regional and world attention, most people I talk to seem to support the intervention, but want it to be over quickly. I have heard some fears that the conflict will drag on, with France getting bogged down in the desert. "Up there, there's nothing but sand, it's easy to hide," one border-hopping travelling salesman told me.

In Dakar, the invasion is readily apparent as well. Recently, a volunteer took this video of French armed forces coming in through Dakar, apparently headed south. He claims to have seen over 200 cars pass, all apparently of French national origin. Here's the video:

 

 The president of Senegal, Macky Sall, has been vocal in his support for the French and West African (ECOWAS) intervention, and has many several speeches on the subject, outlining “the terrorist offence” as a “direct menace” to the “the Senegalese State.” He clarified that the Senegalese intervention in Mali was not only a “mission to maintain the peace,” but a “just war, a war of good against evil,” to “protect national sanctity.” It is a war to “defend the homeland,” he went on to say. Others, such as General Pathe Seck, Senegal’s Interior Minister, told the Senegalese people the need for them to be vigilant and act as shields against the spread of terrorism.

 Some reactions of the government seem very similar to the United States in the “War on Terror,”  with an emphasis on a particular ethnic group, and increasing security. The worries about border crossing by possible violent elements and 'illegal aliens' is also similar to American reactions against immigrants in the aftermath of September 2011, as fears of foreigners rose. The choice of  military rather than diplomatic solution is also similar, given some American military support for the Malian government, and the current American effort to institute AFRICOM, a  security-cooperation agreement throughout much of Africa, with plans on building military bases and  serving as a counterweight to supposed radical Muslium elements in Africa.  Senegal, along with many of its neighbours,  is an active partner with the United States in Trans-Saharan Counterterrorism Initiative in the “War on Terror,” supporting counterterrorism measures against alleged threats of Al Qaeda in Algeria, Chad, Mali, Mauritania, Niger, Senegal, Nigeria, and Morocco.

The huge amount of trucks leaving, as well as NGO's moving out of the country show a definite capital flight. Foreign investors, international aid, and so on, are moving out of the conflict zone, as foreign military forces pour in. NGO's tend to avoid conflict zones, sometimes leading to situations where international organisations don't operate in the the poorest nations, due to ongoing (often times, low-intensity) conflicts.

France's heavy involvement in the conflict is unsurprising: as a former colony and a member of ECOWAS and a nation which uses the CFA, a former colonial currency, France and Mali share many economic, social, and military ties. The still-large population of French people both in Mali and the generation of colonial officers who served in the French Africa keep many connections, so France seeks to guarantee stability in former colonial areas. This diplomatic phenomenon is known as Franceafrique, and is evident in France's post-colonial military actions in many parts of Africa, most recently Cote D'Ivoire.

Two weeks ago, the fist suicide bomber rocked Mali; even after presidential speeches by Hollande promising victory soon, rebellious paratroopers were shot by government troops. Since, more suicide bombers have attacked, including a car bomb yesterday. It's unclear how the conflict will continue as the ongoing situation in Mali has shown itself to have an effect larger than just in the northern area of Mali. Senegal seems dedicated: with the investment of troops, Senegal is taking a leadership role. Across the region, however, the conflict has emerged as a political force: in Algeria, the takeover of the state-owned gas plant was carried out in response to the Algerian government allowing France to use national airspace. With France's promise to put Mali back together-- "not one space of Mali's territory be under the control of terrorists--",it is unclear how long international attention will stay on Mali. With the support of the United Sates, among various other western and regional powers, the capacity for a larger conflict is there; already French tourists have been taken hostage in Cameroon, serving as a warning that even other nations may react. With the opening of a U.S. drone base to serve as a regional hub in Niger, and Obama's pledge that the 100 troops stationed there would aid France in the war in Mali, the United States may find itself more and more involved. Just days ago, a bomb threat was reported against the American embassy in Senegal. All Americans here heard about it in text message from the Embassy. As a judge recently commented in France, foreign intervention in conflicts like these can increase domestic threats, as 'collateral damage' (human rights violations have been reported by all parties involved in the conflict) will  make “the threat... higher and higher...Because they will be trained and come back and organize themselves.” He went on to add: “This is the way terrorists win — they can win with very little.” It's still too soon to tell if the foreign intervention into Mali will increase or decrease future political violence in the region, as French steps up its involvement, militants are leaving Mali for elsewhere.

Class and Culture in the Developing World

Greetings from Kedougou! Hope everyone is well. Today, I'd like to write about something I think about often, and people often talk about here. People ask me about the similarities and differences between South America and Africa all the time. After travelling in parts of both, I feel like I can express my opinion; it's only based on my own experience, but that's the best I can do.

I feel like, overall, people seem to overemphasise the differences in between places, people, and things. There tends to be a view that everywhere is immensely different from every other place. While the "local" is certainly important, I feel like this constant focus on difference, usually cultural difference, tends to understate the similarities in how people actually live. American media, especially television shows and movies, tends to fetishize the "exotic" and "weird" aspects of different cultures, using them as plot devices to make things more interesting. Using "American" or "Western" as the constant for "normal," people of other cultures serve as the foil and are usually boiled down to some "essential" aspect of their being, and portrayed as such: people from the Middle East are crazy Islamist terrorists, Cubans are bizarre communists, Mexicans are drug dealers, Africans are either corrupt or starving to death, and so on. Any group is otherized and portrayed as a bizarre, stereotyped parody of itself.
Actually being in these far-away places that most Americans only experience from bad TV shows and movie villains, however, it's immediately obvious that it isn't that simple. And in that way one begins to see that, for example, Bolivia and Senegal really aren't that different. All the immediate indicators, or stereotypes, or gut-feelings about these two places would seem to be different: Africa vs South America, Christian vs Muslim, Latinos vs Africans, and so on. But if one is in a small village in Bolivia or Senegal, the actual day-to-day of people's lives are very similar. If I were to explain a village where the women are carrying buckets on their heads, men are working in the field all day, it takes atleast four hours to cook a meal, the village acts as a collective, in terms of sharing land, collective responsibility, deferring decisions to village elders, people pull water out of wells, and so on, I could not say if that were Senegal or Bolivia, or Ecuador or Tanzania, or anywhere. I would know if was a poor village, where people are basically grappling for small changes, lack an organised central government, and whose needs are basically peripheral to the international financial system. If you were to compare their gross national products (GDP,) basically the most common indicator for economic success internationally, you would see that Bolivia, ranking 95th, Senegal at 115th, Tanzania, 97th, and Paraguay at 101st, are all basically in the poorest half of nations (there are, of course, many many more poor nations than rich nations.)
Now, if one visits the capital of any of these countries, there are rich people, in nice cars, with air conditioning, who never carry anything on their head, never work in the field, spend 4 hours a day on the computer, and so on, and to an extent, their day-to-day lives are very similar to people's in the United States. In Pulaar, we say these people "eat money." In English, I guess, we say they have "disposable income." It's like that old (I'm sure apocryphal) quote of F. Scott Fitzgerald, "the rich are different than you and I." The interesting thing isn't necessarily disparity of income, as we all know that it's similar in America, where 1% of the population own 70% of all financial assets. The  UN says the richest 1% of the world owns 40% of the world's wealth. So the inequality isn't what is interesting. It's that poor people, be it in Senegal or Tanzania or Paraguay or downtown Atlanta or Paris, share more in common than they do with the rich in their own countries. A peasant in Ecuador, living in a tiny, relatively isolated and (from the viewpoint of the government) unimportant village, lives really a very similar life to someone in a similar position in Guinea, and a life that is not all that different from someone living in the ghetto in Los Angeles. Certainly when compared to a wealthly businessman living in Dakar, a person living in my village shares almost nothing in common, besides superficial cultural similarities.
The question arises, then, why are these cultural differences so focused on, when in the larger picture, they don't affect how people actually live their lives too terribly much? Why, in the popular American imagination, does one think of a poor Mexican and a poor "African" as so different? I would argue that our modern, capitalist mindset, heavily influenced by the rhetoric and reality of "globalization," tends to emphasise culture. Talking about the spreading of markets, technology, and a "global culture," one typically sees that culture is framed as the major impediment to the spread of the global economic system into every nook and cranny of the world. The old "McWorld vs Jihad" viewpoint, that "backwards stone age Arabs" hate modernity, and therefore won't accept capitalism or McDonalds or 'the unstoppable tide of globalisation,' frames culture as the major division between "us" and "them." On a more policy-based level, the "barriers to trade" are usually discussed as cultural ideas-- the importance of efficiency, the fundamentals of property rights, "ease of investment," strength of legal systems-- all of these things arise from perceived cultural differences.
The capitalist mindset, one that views possessions as the basis of life, or society, or whatever the fundamentals of life is chosen to be, will find culture to be the main difference, because it is assumed that consumption and accumulation are truly the basis of all social relations, and culture is what is holding back some of these "fundamentals of human nature" from being expressed fully-- and therefore signing the next trade deal, having a Wal-Mart, or getting rid of collective property rights. These cultural arguments are often used, then, to explain poverty and lack in the developing world, as Africans are viewed as lazy, South Americans as abusing their siestas, or now, the Greek as having a permissive and corrupt culture. There are two main problems with these arguments:
Ha-Joon Chang, a professor of institutional economics at Cambridge, has analysed these cultural arguments, with surprising results: they tend to change drastically over time, choosing to emphasise different aspects of a single people, depending on whether or not this group is currently successful. In analysing the claim that Africans are poor because they are lazy and don't work hard, Chang looks at an American history book from the early 20th Century, describing the Japanese of being “lazy and utterly indifferent to the passage of time, " and Koreans as “sullen, lazy and religionless savages”. He also looks at popular views of other cultures, such as in  Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, where a character complains that “the Germans never hurry”. Now, the stereotypes of Germans, Koreans, and Japanese are the total opposite; nobody would accuse these cultures of laziness. Chang argues that people often make assumptions about people they believe are inferior, and quickly blame culture. India is now a booming economy, but not so long ago economists spoke of a ‘Hindu rate of growth’, saying Hindu culture was fatalistic and not conducive to innovation or enterprise. The same is true of Brazil, which not too long ago was written off as a hedonistic culture, more interested in short-term fun than economic growth. “The history of capitalism has been so totally re-written that many people in the rich world do not perceive the historical double standards involved in recommending free trade and the free market to developing countries” says Chang. Instead, they blame culture, saying there are innate differences, which prevent people from gaining an economic foothold.

The second problem with this culturalist viewpoint is raised by Paul Farmer, an anthropologist and physician at Harvard Medical School. A constant theme is his works is what he terms the "misdiagnosing of structural violence for cultural difference." That is, people "taking their time" cooking meals, or carrying water, or eating the same food every day, or what have you, tends to be viewed as a cultural difference, as opposed to situations imposed on people by desperate poverty. In one of his books, Infections and Inequalities, he gives the stark example of snacks made of mud sold in Haiti. Some would say that is part of their "culture," and indeed, that is the gut response many Westerners would have. He argues one can really only understand that by looking at class, that is, extreme poverty.
So then, to answer the question of how similar Africa and South America are-- poor people in both places live in a very very similar way. Class ends of really determining how people live daily-- pulling water from a well and walking three kilometres, or buying bottled water. Although the idea of class isn't very popular in America (although, with the increased focus on "the 1%"," that is changing,) I find it to be a much more useful model for looking at, and understanding, the world. Culture makes better postcards, but the upper middle class around the world lives surprisingly similar lives, and the poor around the world live depressingly similar lives as well, be it in my village in rural Senegal, or San Juan in Paraguay, or Endesac in Tanzania.

Ok, so everyone is always asking for pictures, so here's some!
Here's my little sister, Penda!

 Here's my garden, a few beds, cabbage n leaf plants and onions and stuff..Little banana tree in the backyard.

 Here's my mom, in front of a few more beds. She's Nene Mariama. Nene Hawa is in the back.

 Here's my countainer garden. I've got marigolds in my mortal, moringa on the ground, and mint in the bucket.

And finally, the empty fields-- just waiting for the first rains.

Okay, bigger blog post next week, got one festering-- culture vs class.

A View of “On the Ground Realities” of Clientalism in Senegal

    So, a maybe you all have heard, Senegal just had a much-anticipated election on the 25th of February. Since before I arrived here in August, there has been a constant controversy about the eligibility of Abdoulaye Wade, the current president, to run again. Elected in 2000, he has served two consecutive terms, recently changed the constitution, attempted to form a Vice Presidency office (which currently does not exist) and so on. According to the new constitution, a president can only serve two terms, a condition Wade claims does not apply to him because he has not yet served a complete term under the new constitution. This is a common claim of presidents in many developing countries, one that rang familiar to me due to its overuse by leaders in Latin America over the past few years. In late January, the Constitutional Court agreed that Wade was correct and could run again. His legal team included legal experts from America, who he paid $200 ,000 to help him assemble a “white paper,” a  legal interpretation of the constitution. All of this has been even more controversial because of Wade's age-- officially 85 years old, but widely believed to be older.
    Every step of Wade's recent politicking-- from his attempts to create an office of Vice-Presidency, the formation of a new constitution, Wade's insistence on serving again, and most recently, his campaign tour have been greeted with large, sometimes violent protests, including tire-burning, traffic-stopping demonstrations, molotov cocktails, all of which has led to police attempts to stop the demonstrations, some of which have not had the necessary permits and permissions. This has resulted in several deaths, many injuries, and some very bad publicity for the police, including an incident in which tear gas was thrown into a mosque. A large opposition/protest group has been formed M23, representing the 23 parties opposed to Wade, whose slogan J'en y marre (“I'm fed up” in French) adorns t-shirts across the country. An opposition leader, Amath Donsokho, was recently widely quoted as saying "Abdoulaye Wade has declared war on the people." All of this has been a fascinating time for me, struggling with Pulaar, figuring out what's going on, all from my tiny village in the most rural area of Senegal.
 My village, Thianguey, is reasonably isolated from most of Senegal, and very much isolated from Dakar, where most of the protests have been. Still, the election itself has been very visible on every level, even in my 400-person town. A brief description of the political hierarchy in the vil is necessary first to understand the way the campaign has affected my area.

Each town has what is called a chef de village, who is responsible for mobilizing the town, collecting and paying taxes, and generally dealing with any issues affecting the village as a political whole. Above him is the head of the “rural community,” which is similar to a country, and who is known as the PCR, the “presidante de la communitaie rurale.” It just so happens that the head of the PCR in my area resides in my small village, as opposed to the larger village, Dindefello, next to where I live. It is unusual for a PCR to live in a small town, and as my PCR is responsible for 17 villages, one of which has over 4,000 people, it is somewhat unique that he lives in my tiny town. Besides these two figures of power, most people are equal in my village, politically-- the Imam has some say in issues, but most people are simply part of “the masses,” in the view of the electoral campaigns.

All this said, all three of these groups were targeted by Wade's election campaign. All of the chef de village's were summoned to Kedogou for a meeting: each received 50,000 CFA (about $100.) As the election drew nearer, new plans were announced: the chef de villages of each Community Rurale would now be provided a car, which they will collectively own, for traveling and political participation. This, however, is contingent on Wade's victory.

The PCR was also directly campaigned to. He received 500,000 CFA, ostensibly for purposes of electioneering and helping the campaign effort.  It was up to him to decide on the distribution of the funds within his region, a large part of which he decided to spend on a gigantic party and meal for several villages. Apparently some people did not agree with his choice; there was a small-scale riot in a neighboring town to me, due to the people's unhappiness with not directly receiving money from the campaign and the PCR.

On a village level, the entirety of the voting populous (and their children) were invited to a gigantic meal (with lots of meat, a rare delicacy) on election day, enjoyed shorting after voting by nearly my entire town. Low level campaign workers also came to Thianguey, promising roads, increased money for education in my town (to build another school building,) and just general prosperity and progress, if Wade wins. No other candidates had any reach into my village; they obviously have no access to state funds for campaigning purposes. I saw their posters here and there.

On a country wide level, Wade is most popular with the older people. Many are not offended by his serving of several terms-- the former presidents of Senegal, Senghor and Diouf both ruled for over ten years. They see his insistence to continue serving as confirmation of his competence and dedication, as well as proving that no other of the 13 candidates running against him have the experience of ruling the country as a whole In Thianguey in particular, people like him for extending roads to reach closer to the village, the installation of two forages (deep drill wells) and the ever-closer reach of electricity-- still not to the village, but increasing the the town next to me. They are convinced another term for Wade would mean increasing integration of Kedougou as a whole, and Thianguey in particular, into the Senegalese economy and life.

Those opposed to Wade typically cite his age, accusations of bribery, graft, and shadowy land deals in Dakar (including the multimillion dollar, North Korean-supported “African Renaissance Monument,”) and the necessity of change of rulers for progress. The rolling blackouts in Dakar which always seem to put out the power in neighborhoods where Wade isn't much liked are put forward as as proof of Wade's favoritism and clientelism. Younger people are most likely to oppose him, and, in Thianguey, often dismiss him as a kikilaare, roughly meaning a crazy old man.

So, last Sunday was the election itself. The night before, a car drove up in the middle of the night (one of the maybe 3 or 4 cars I've ever seen in village,) and out came three uniformer soldiers, none of whom could speak Pulaar. I spoke to them (in French) and learned they had come to maintain order and facilitate the voting process the next day, happening in the local elementary school building. The voting process itself was pretty simple. Most of the people of voting age in Thianguey are illiterate, so each voter received 14 sheets of paper-- one for each candidate, with a picture of them, in the name of their party, and some other rudimentary information. They choose which candidate they wanted, inked their finger, pressed in on the sheet representing their candidate of choice, and dropped their slip of paper into the voting box.

This process was widely condemned by international election monitors for facilitating corruption-- if one were paid off to vote, they would simply show the 13 sheets of paper they still had to whoever requested they vote a certain way, thereby proving who had received their vote; reward would then be provided. I was reminded of storied I had heard in Paraguay, during the elections, one would just take a picture of the ballot with your camera phone, then show it at the door of the huge party after the election, proving you had voted for the candidate providing the party.

This process-- the parties, the free food, the money for local political figures, the possibly graft-encouraging voting process-- has been looked upon with skepticism by many people I know here, Senegalese and not. Some people I've spoken to have called it “bribery.” Further examination is this is pertinent to understanding of the political system. 

Linguistically, culturally, ethnically, and so on, Senegal is a fractured country. It has at least six major ethnic groups, hundreds of languages spoken, only very loosely joined by an education system conducted entirely in French (a second language for most of the population.), In addition, the coastal areas and interior areas are very separated, by distance, poor infrastructure, cultural differences, and so on. The ruling political class is almost entirely Wolof, the ethnic group which is primarily on the Dakar-area of the coast, and there is very little minority representation. (Wade for one is a Wolof.) This intensifies the difficulty of ruling the country-- who should benefit from state policies? The Dakarois, who make up the vast majority of the population and economic force of the country? Or the Kedougoube, who make up .15% of the country's population, and have virtually no infrastructure or state presence in their everyday lives. Simply choosing who to help with limited state funds is a major issue with governing Senegal, or most nations. This has become a more difficult issue over the past twenty years, as the political rise of neoliberalism has led to a general gutting of the state; less state money generally is available for state-projects which are not direct related to the integration of Senegal into the world market, and some programs, such as  Senegal's state-funded agriculture extension program, have become political infeasible in an “increasingly globalized world,” where the role of the state is to facilitate economic integration on a world scale, not to provide projects to help the marginalized populations. (Peace Corps and NGOS are filling that gap, but that's another blog post.)

So, political actors and candidates choose who to help, often based on  their clan similarity, or similar economic incentives, or the perception that one should help a more “useful” group. So, is all this any different than politics in America? It seems like the same process of clientalism (“political system at the heart of which is an asymmetric relationship between groups of political actors described as patrons and clients.”) Democrats promise to increase welfare and benefits for the poor, and are accused of “buying” votes by Republicans, saying that Liberal politicians are effectively paying poor people (through additions to the welfare state) to vote for them. Republicans at the same time, make dramatic tax cuts for the richest of the rich, seeing that the mega-rich are politically useful. Meanwhile, both parties are pumped full of money by Wall Street, financial firms, and the largest corporations. Obama, for example, after receiving more donations from Wall Street firms that any other president in history, provided a gigantic bail-out for the same companies whose incompetence  and risk-taking caused the most recent financial crisis. They scratched his back, he scratches there. Still not a single prosecution of a Wall Street mogul.

In America, election promises are used to encourage people to vote (remember Obama promising to end wars, close Guantanamo, and put regulate Wall Street? What about Bush promising a “humble foreign policy,” an end to nation building, and to instill a spirit of bipartisanship?) In Senegal, rather than often empty election promises, people get a hot meal, maybe a little money in their pocket, and some vague promises that maybe change will eventually reach their little town, all while knowing that Dakar will really be the ones to benefit almost always. Either way, its the same-- the politicians have to choose who to help, and the ones they choose are usually the ones they feel can help them out, too.

So, the election ended, Wade got 35% of the vote, the next closest was Mackey Sall, with 26.5%. No candidate received the 50% necessary to win the election straight out, so, for the first time in history, a second round will be taking place. It's taking place the 11th, and I can't wait to hear all about it in village. Word on the street is Wade is going to lose; the power has been out in Kedougou for three straight days, and people argue this shows Wade doesn't care about currying their favor. Next Sunday will be the true test.

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!

Sorry it's been a while

Okay so I've been here two months, and realise my last entry was a month ago. So I just wanted to say hi, I swore in as an official volunteer a few days ago, and now I  am back in Kedougou  and will be installing as an official volunteer tomorrow, in my village, Thianguey. I've had my last language exam, did well, and now it's time to put my 2 months of training to the test, and my real training and work till start. So, super excited. I'll post a real update in a week or so and talk about how my first week of two years in Thianguey is. Miss and love everyone!