Wow. We’re half way in. How did that happen?! The months are speeding up at an incredible rate now, each day busier than the last.
February has consisted of tests, marking and travel. Much like mocks in England, all schools had a few weeks off-timetable, so that the students from every year group could sit tests in every single subject. Whilst preparing and teaching a lesson takes a lot more effort and preparation, I’d now happily do it over solo invigilating tests of 2 or 3 hours for 2 weeks. Invigilating has got to be the most boring activity on the jobs list. Since being here, I definitely have a new found respect for teachers (especially having taught my 4emes for 5 months, and whilst their banter is better, their concentration level is not) but this month, I’ve found the biggest respect for invigilators. Whilst some tedious activities may warrant the phrase ‘it’s like watching paint dry’ nothing warrants the phrase ‘it’s like watching a 4 hour histoire-geo exam all alone when you’ve forgotten your notepad’ except the job itself. It’s made even worse when, no matter the level or the subject, the students scowl at you both throughout and on finishing the test, because, even if they’ve never seen you before, you probably wrote the test, and specifically picked out the most difficult questions that they didn’t revise.
As we had less regular lessons, and less regular preparation however, we were able to have a few weekends away during February. At the start of the month (after I’d got over a sickness bug) we had a visit from the Kaolack girls here in Joal for 2 days, and then went to stay with them for the weekend. It was lovely to spend time with the girls and to see the education centre which they both work and live in, in full swing. In kaolack, the only way to travel is by Jakartas. These are like small motorbikes, most of which are still covered in bubble wrap due to the fear of scratched paintwork! So yes, of course we had a go! I wouldn’t say that the drivers are the most cautious I’ve ever come across, but none of us have been hurt yet! So fun once you get over the fear of dying (sorry mum) On the Sunday we were able to spend the morning at Kaolack market – the second biggest market in Africa! I wouldn’t be surprised if we didn’t even cover 1/6th of it! Despite our Wolof not being impressive at all, it’s enough to haggle, which comes in very useful when you are being charged the ‘very cheap real price totally not just for Toubabs!’ Once we tell the venders our Senegalese names, where we live and show off a bit of Wolof, Serer and Fulani (rare to find someone who doesn’t speak at least one of these) they tend to be very excited, even giving us deals because their mother is called Aita, or their sister is called Coumba! For those who don’t give in, it comes down to our go-to phrases of ‘hamna le prix, mangee dekha fe’ (I know the price, I live here) ‘defa cher, wan nyeeko’ (that’s expensive, make it cheaper) ‘bulma nackt’ (don’t lie to me) and the universal, huff, kiss your teeth and storm away, hoping they change their mind and call you back over!
The following weekend, Charlotte and I attended a celebration for the church’s birthday or saints day or something. (we’re never really 100% about what’s going on.) Since November, we have been singing in the church choir, on Amadou’s polite but clear hint that ‘maybe we should sing somewhere else, somewhere where it’s useful.’ It’s been lovely to feel like such a part of both the choir and the church congregation (whom we had to introduce ourselves in front of one very busy Sunday!) and, despite neither of us being Catholic, or as devout as they are here, we have been very welcomed, and so we were honoured to be asked to help out at this big church event. After singing with the choir during the 3 hour mass, conducted in Wolof (yes, a little difficult I have to admit) we went to the local primary school where people from all over Joal had a lovely lunch, with drinks and music and dancing from those in all age groups. Charlotte and I then helped out on a stall for the remainder of the day, which was tiring (children are so demanding and do not rest ever) but an experience! With our boubous matching every one else’s who was helping out, and being recognised and greeted from people we know all day, it really made me realise how, even though we aren’t great at Wolof and we still get called ‘Toubab’ we are starting to be seen as part of the community, not just as strange outsiders. When, slowly but surely the shout of toubab from children in the area change to Aita and Coumba and taxi drivers, street vendors, shop owners and post office workers recognise us and ask how everything is going, it makes it all worthwhile. It’s nice to know that, now that we reach the half way mark, as well as Joal now always being a part of us, we might, for a small time at least, be a part of Joal. So that’s all very lovely and emotional, but on a serious note, as fun as the Kermass and lunch and feeling like part of the community bla bla was, I did unfortunately chip my tooth in a sprite bottle…I mean…er…fighting a bear. Disaster.
Apologies, all this and we’re only on February 14th
On Valentine’s Day, we made the journey back to Yene – the village just outside of Dakar, where we spent our first 3 weeks. It was fab to see the family again, even if it did take the twins a few hours to remember us! We spent most of our time with our friend Khade, catching up on her gossip and having a girly weekend! And of course, what girly weekend isn’t spent at a wedding…
We arrived around 5pm, and by 10, we were pretty tired, but then there was mention of a party. It being Senegal, we of course didnt know any more than we weren’t to sleep just yet. As it approached 12.30, we enquired again, and were told we were going to meet the bride and groom, but that they had not yet returned from their marriage ceremony in Dakar. We were then awoken at 3.30, hurried out of bed, (from having a quick nap) and went next door. There, we waited some more, with a group of women. And waited. And waited. Just as we were starting to lose the will, we were rushed into a room full of women sitting on the floor. In the corner, the husband and wife were eating together under a large cloth. The husband then got up. And left the room. That was it. What we’d been waiting for. We then got fed the milky grainy thing, called lakh which I cannot explain. And then we returned to bed. This part of the ceremony is the first time that the newly weds eat together. It is common for the bride and groom to meet only a few times, if at all, before they are married, so this is supposed to be a big step in the relationship!
The next day was the proper party. For the bride and bridal party, it seems like the most important part of the whole event. Usually, the marriage itself does not involve the bride at all, as all of the paperwork is done by the men at the mosque, as well as the paying of the dowry (which I wasn’t really aware still existed,) where the women are not allowed to go. To me this is hard to understand, and seems more like a father signing off his daughter without allowing her much input in her own wedding day, but it has been explained that they are allowed to refuse the marriage at some point in the process. However, the party day was a mass event. I’ve never seen dresses, hair, make-up and shoes done to such an extent! We attended a Saba in the day time (a dance with extremely loud senegalese music playing through massive speakers) and then further dancing and singing and drum beats played on pots and pans all over the house continued for the rest of the evening! Charlotte and I are now pretty convinced that we’ve got some of the moves down to a T, so clubs of England better watch out in August!
The whole trip to Yene didn’t last long, but was so fun, we’ll definitely be heading back there soon!
In order to celebrate National Mother Tongue day on the 21st February, we let our shared 6eme class take over. We explored which languages our students speak, and let them teach some of each to us! Here in Joal we have a large range of languages, although the majority seem to speak either Serer or Fulani as a first language. Even though Wolof is spoken by everyone, it’s most people’s second language. It’s not difficult to understand why they find English hard, when for most, it’s their 4th language after a local language, Wolof and French!
So that’s it for our February excitement. The rest of the month was spent marking 3 classes of 70 and 2 classes of 40’s mocks (such a lot of marking, see below for only one class worth!) and catching up on all of our washing that got pretty neglected with all of our travelling!
Promise to keep you all updated on March very soon!
B xxxx
Beth's year in Senegal 