Senegal: The Best Diet You'll Never Go On

I have always felt inferior to those who, when working out, get those obnoxious, gynormous sweat rings, or have the ability sweat through a shirt in its entirety. Back in the States, I felt like no matter how hard I exercised whether it be running, aerobics, lifting weights, it didn’t matter, I could never walk out of the gym - not even Husker Power - with what I felt was enough evidence of my effort (I am going on the record as fully admitting my sick need to compete in every facet of life – I can’t help it).

Nonetheless, since my arrival in Senegal, I have found it impossible to not sweat… all the time. I have successfully worked up a full-on, drops-running-down-the-side-of-my-face sweat in doing nothing more than brushing my teeth. They say that the body’s internal temperature rises slightly after eating while the body is digesting, and in Senegal, you can actually feel the increase.

Approximately two weeks ago I started jogging very short distances early in the mornings before the sun is even thinking about being really hot. And approximately two weeks ago I discovered that I, too, have the ability to sweat through a shirt in its entirety. I have been in Senegal for more than three months now, and, to date, have knocked off 25 pounds. Now, don’t go getting alarmed. I am neither starving, malnourished, hating the food or in any way unhealthy. It has been a gradual, surprising and altogether unintentional process mostly the result of snack food being more than an hour bike ride away through the busch, and the ability to actually prepare food for myself more than 70k away. It makes 8pm ice cream runs 6 blocks away to the grocery store seem light years ago.

And all things being equal, I argue that anyone who sweats this much deserves to see some results. I currently have a friend who is kicking butt and taking names with Weight Watchers back home - totally proud of him and his efforts. But I submit that my 25 pounds have been the 25 easiest pounds to lose, and have no doubt that, upon my return home, will also be the easiest 25 pounds to gain. So while I am having fun with this whole clothes are too big, new me thing, I wouldn’t recommend buying a one-way ticket just yet. Enjoy some ice cream for me and embrace the air conditioning while you’ve got it. If you need me, I will be here… sweating and loving it!

SCORE!

Current Score:
Senegal: 374 Me: 1
To keep in the spirit of the national sport of Senegal, soccer, I confess that there are moments of every day in which I feel like my Peace Corps experience is a bit of a shut-out; like I am a lone opponent against the entire force of the Senegalese National Team. Don’t get me wrong, I am so glad to be here. I am learning lots and getting excited about the work I will soon begin. But everything is difficult and everything takes a considerable amount of effort. It is easy, on a bad day, to feel defeated.

But last week I launched a ball from midfield and sank it into the top right corner of the GOAL. Score one for me. For more than a month I have wanted a bookshelf for my hut – nothing fancy, just a place to put things, off the floor. The second week in my village I had asked the local “handy man” in my village to make one for me; a task I thought reasonable. Upon completion, I was not impressed, kindly did not accept the product and continued wanting a shelf. I was even willing (and against all faith from my villagers) even able to build it for myself. But just finding the necessary materials for such a project is an undertaking. So until this point I had admitted defeat.

Then last week, I woke up at about 1am (you should know I sleep outside my hut in my backyard) and just knew a storm was about to hit. You could just feel it. I literally shot up, grabbed my pillow, sheet and alarm clock in one fell swoop and ran into my hut. I barely cleared the door when the rains and winds blew through like a freight train. It was an amazing display of nature – and not being used to the nature here yet, it scared the living daylights out of me. Needless to say, I was unable to fall asleep for the next three hours.

So I read for awhile. And then I cleaned for awhile. And then I realized that I REALLY wanted that bookshelf. So with the cardboard box which I used to transport my books and binders to Thiewal Lao, some plastic rope and duct tape (there really are 1000 uses for duct tape), I fashioned a hanging bookshelf. It is not pretty. It may not last more than a few weeks. But it is a place to put things. And I made it, by candlelight, in a fit of anxiety at 2am during my first encounter with Senegal nature, and I think it is pretty freaking amazing!

And so it is the small things that make this long, hard, really incredible experience possible. It is the hanging bookshelves in life that make all the difference at 2am when nothing else can calm your nerves. And it is the people in your life who whole-heartedly appreciate the inner beauty of your totally horrendous creation that remind you that two years is only two years when you’ve got some place to put your things.

On the "Road" Again

This video represents approximately 30 seconds of a 15 hour ride en route to my site. Nuf said.

What identity?

So for those of you who may have forgotten or never known, my name is Mary Margaret. This is a name that for the last 24 years I have used exclusively on official documents. To the rest of the world I am Maggie. The Peace Corps, being an United States government program, requires a few pieces of paperwork and subsequently, I suddenly became Mary to the other people in my training group who didn't know me as anything else. I still forget to respond to Mary sometimes like the first day of class when they take roll and this girl doesn't say 'here'.
And as I started to get used to this new phenomenon that is my name, I was given a Senegalese name: Jenaba Balde. For several weeks this name was the only thing I could recognize coming out of my host family's mouth (that has since gotten much better)!
In just a few days I will go to my site and receive my permanent Senegalese name.
All this I can handle and even laugh at, but yesterday I was mistaken for a buillion cube. Yes, my American name of preference, Maggie, is coincidently similar to the seasoning of preference in Senegal, Maggi cubes. The Maggi brand of buillion cubes is easily the most recognizable brand in Senegal - not even Adidas has a leg up on this one. Their yellow and red logo is plastered everywhere and they use the seasoning in almost every meal they make. It is more than a staple of Senegalese cooking, it is a symbol of modern living for this culture.
So yesterday, a man visiting from a small village walked up to me during training while I had on a name tag and asked me - in Pulaar - if I liked Maggi. And in perfect Pulaar, having abandoned all semblance of self, I made my first real joke in another language: A linguistic break through and personal realization that in a third world country it doesn't matter what they call you and sharing a name with a sodium-heavy seasoning may just be the break I have been looking for.

Outta Left Field

Let me preface this moment with a fact: all emotions are exponentially magnified in Senegal. It is possible to be indifferent at times, but when your body gets an inkling of something specific, it is all or nothing. One does not shed A tear, one does not slightly giggle and one does not get somewhat annoyed... or maybe that's just me! This past week in language class we learned the future tense of verbs; a useful skill. And I was soooooo proud of myself for saying in Pulaar I have one niece (present tense) but I will have two nieces in about 20 days (future). I know, it's tricky. I thought this was a harmless sentence.
One more fact: my niece is the coolest person I know. That is not saying anything less about the rest of you, she is just actually that cool.
So later that night I stayed up late reading and at about 12:30, as I was flipping the page, I suddenly internalized the sentence I had previously constructed that day and absolutely lost it. It was the kind of choking, coughing, gasping gross sob that really makes you feel pathetic. I could only pray that my family did not hear me because I was not going to be able to spit it out in English what my problem was, let alone Pulaar.
And two minutes later, I was done. Like I said, uncontrollable emotion, or none at all. I realized in one single moment that not only am I missing out on two amazing years of Evie's life, but the new baby (recently dubbed "baby without a name") will not even know me. These were all things I had known, but it doesn't make it any easier.
The moral of this story should be that it is wonderful to know you have people who love you. But to be honest, I am just as sad for everyone who hasn't met Eve. Does that make me a bad person, or an overzealous aunt?... or both!
So to Evie's parents, all the grandparents, her many aunts and all the other fortunate people to get to see her before I do, give her a hug and when the new baby comes remind her that aunt Boggie will be 'right back!'

The Next Step

In just 10 days I will make my final move in country to a small village of 378 people called Thiewal Lao located in the south of Senegal near the regional capitol of Kolda. I will be living in the village chief's compound and am the first volunteer to live in the village... there's a first time for everything! We are incredibly fortunate to be in the south because the fruits and vegetables are everywhere, unlike in the north. Last week I actually ate four mangos and six cashew apples (PS - cashew apples are easily the coolest discovery I have made thus far in country) in one day right off the trees. Despite the obvious cause and effect concerns from such a sugar intake, it was easily one of the best days I have had and plan to replicate it as often as possible.
The adventure really starts when I am dropped off in my village to figure things out for myself. I feel great about the language skills I have, but am fully aware that I know absolutely nothing. And I don't think that my extensive vocabulary describing the furniture in my home is going to come in handy on a day-to-day basis, but I am learning much faster than I ever imagined possible... so here we go!

Through My Eyes

My "window" in my bedroom.













View of main porch from my room














My kitchen.













My bathroom - affetcionally called "the hole."