A (food) crime against humanity was committed last night at my house. I'm still upset about it. I spent yesterday afternoon at the center using the power (the center has a generator so it was the only place with power yesterday, my house had electricity for less than two hours) and waiting for the new volunteers to return from Dakar where they had just sworn in. I try not to stalk PCVs on day one of their actual service, but desperate times call for desperate measures. The tally of artisans attending the expo in St. Louis next month is finally finalized and although the number is one too many and I'm hoping (I'm a terrible person) that one will drop out, I had all of the money ready to go. All I needed was a mule and that mule took the form of the new volunteer going to St. Louis. Jessica is really helping me out by taking the money to the SED PCV in St. Louis who will then take the money to Jazz Fest offices to reserve our booths. Complicated, but I'm confident all of the transactions will take place.
High off of my time with electricity and the money transfer I returned home to what I thought was a beautiful sight. Moroccan couscous was in the kitchen! I've been having major issues with almost all Senegalese food, which has been compounded by the fact that I never feel satisfied or satiated after I eat, so I was pumped when I saw couscous. It must have been the euphoria of seeing couscous that clouded my judgement and prevented me from asking what we were having for dinner because it was a truly, rookie mistake. Even though I was hungry I told myself not to snack from my stash and waited patiently in the dark for my delicious dinner to arrive. At about 10pm when I wanted sleep more than I wanted dinner anyway, I received gruel. Awa had turned scrumptious Moroccan couscous into lach aka gruel. I was so sad I had to call Katherine for moral support. There was nothing else to do but throw the gruel to the goats and go to bed.
Today was a really quiet day around the house because my mom and dad went to Dakar which meant everyone else did nothing. Literally nothing. The power was out so everyone sat in the rooms by themselves, which suited me just fine especially since I was going out for lunch. Brian was in town visiting his host brother who had club foot surgery in Thies so we went to lunch at Les Delices where we ran into a couple of other PCVs. It's always nice when people are in Thies and it was nice to get out on the weekend since I usually stay around the compound, which usually puts me in a not so good mood. Yes, I understand that problem is easily solved. Brian and I walked to Total after lunch to pick up some Sandras (ice cream) and then parted ways - I walked home and he went to the garage and back to Joal.
I spent most of my evening in the Dakar sitting on a mat with Abdou and listening to all of the women talk. I started yawning because I was zoning off and it was dark so Jeenaba started mocking me about going to bed early. She called me a chicken, which means "early to bed early to rise," since I went to bed at 10:15 last night. I would like to point out we had eaten dinner, we didn't have electricity and everyone else was lounging in the living room dozing. I take so much flack for going to bed "early." It is my family who are the abnormal ones as most of our neighbors and most other PCVs' families go to bed when I do. The going to bed early thing doesn't bother me anymore and I'm doing it again tonight!
Messy, but Warm
1 year ago