Musings

March 28, 2009

So the time is drawing near where I will have to make a decision: do I stay or do I go? And how come someone who is normally so decisive is in this quandary, anyway? When  I first came on board, I made it quite clear to my bosses that I would stay for two years and then leave – after all, besides the fact that I do not have hot water, there is also no 401 K option here, and certainly no extra money to put away for the proverbial rainy day.

I was so culture-shocked when I first arrived. Not only did I hate the daily morning call to prayer at 5:45 a.m. or so and the lack of sidewalks anywhere, but I was paranoid about mosquitoes (I have given up the Mefloquin and sleep without a net), I was paranoid about the vegetables (the worst case of the runs I had was when I tried using bleach to wash my veggies), I was paranoid about the stray animals, I was paranoid about street crime, and in a conversation with my mother I recently established several important things:

- The AIDS rate is lower here in Senegal than it is in Washington, DC

- I have not yet been the victim of any kind of real crime here, whereas in NY I had a chain snatched from around my neck and I was the victim of at least two house burglaries

- I really enjoy living in a place that has neither McDonald’s nor strip malls

- I actually like it when cars are forced to slow down because of grazing sheep or buffalo

- It warms my heart to see kids wrestling or playing football outdoors instead of playing video games

-Bougainvillea is amazing, and so is passionfruit

So do I leave this and go back to a society in which hot water, electricity, intact sidewalks and four dollar lattes are taken for granted (well, maybe the last bit has changed somewhat, given the economic crunch)? Where no one voluntarily says anything to anyone they do not know, where so many people are lonely workaholics who self-medicate using liquor and Prozac, where those people who do have any money to spare are superficial enough to want to invest it all in cosmetic surgery…?

I have met so many amazing people here in Dakar, people of vision and inspiration: people who create and support schools, people who rescue strays and help sick and injured animals, people who take trash and turn it into income, people who care about things that go beyond the slick surface of outward success. I know such people exist everywhere, but oddly enough, it was not until I got here that I had anything to do with them.

As for the locals, they impress me more than I can express with their use of what is affectionately known as ‘Method D’. The ‘d’ stands for ‘debrouiller,’ meaning ‘to get by’ - they will recycle Nescafe and Orangina cans and turn them into furniture, for heaven’s sakes, they will remove a sea urchin spine lodged in your foot using a thorn from a fig tree, they will repair a torn canvas bag using a paper clip to hold it together. In short, whatever is needed, they will find a way. No whining, no moaning, only ingenuity is called for.

Last but not least, there are my students. Though I rant and rave and claim they never work hard or thoroughly enough, they do care. They have values and beliefs that they will defend most passionately, they ask intelligent questions, they even do their homework most days! Where, oh where, can I hope to find kids as articulate, as charming, as interested and as interesting?
So: do I stay, or do I go??

About the Author : Tamara-Diana Braunstein brings us her stories from Senegal every week. She was born in Brooklyn, New York. She is a restless wanderer who earned an MA from the University of Freiburg and has worked in a youth hostel in the French Alps, a law firm in Montreal, the Metropolitan Museum of Art as well as in university press publishing. At the moment her home base is Dakar, Senegal, where she is supposed to be teaching but is doing far more learning, as you will see by reading her blog at www.senegalschoolmarm.blogspot.com