A reflection piece I wrote for Senegalese Society & Culture

11.12.09

Before last week and before coming on this program, whenever I would think about my potential future involvement in international development, I would have these grand ideas of working for USAID, the UN, or some well known international NGO. I had visions of myself writing policy and traveling through developing countries to familiarize myself with issues facing different regions. I spent quite a bit of time thinking this past week and I find myself becoming disillusioned with development organizations and the idea of development work itself.

Our Peace Corps Volunteer, Daniel, spoke highly of the work he had seen USAID doing. They are building middle schools throughout Senegal. They are not providing these schools with better teachers or implementing any programs to improve attendance so the schools may not actually make much of an impact. However, they are building these schools so that when government policies change and attitudes toward education changes, the schools will be there—fully equipped with desks, chairs, and computers. Despite my recently developed hobby of criticizing USAID, it was good to be reminded that they are completing some goals even if they are failing on others.

Many ideas I had about development work changed over the course of the week. Daniel is in the environmental education program of the Peace Corps. His mission also includes health education. He talks to villagers about issues that affect or involve the environment and health, but his main focus has been making gardens in the village. He started a vegetable garden in the middle school and the village responded favorably to it. During our week, we started another garden in his host brother’s compound. We pulled out weeds, built a fence, and started a nursery. His plan for the next five months before his two years are up is to start a more gardens in the village. He does not hold any grand aspirations to substantially boost the local economy or to bring running water or electricity to Dindefello. His plans are simpler, yet they are effective and immediate. Being able to add just a few more vegetables to one meal adds variety and brings nutrients they were lacking to their diets. The gardens also bring a little bit of extra commerce to the local economy.

This kind of work that Daniel is doing is the kind of work I had not given much thought to before coming to Senegal. Work like this, on a micro-level, is what people can do rather easily and successfully. It does not take much funding, just some money for seeds and maybe for tools. It takes time and hard work, but it can visibly improve people’s lives.

Daniel said that being in the Peace Corps has affected him a lot, personally. He is not sure, however, of how much he has affected the village and how much they actually need him. He calls his type of work “behavioral change.” He does not know how well he is doing his job. Even if he talks to the villagers every day and teaches them about the importance of good nutrition and education for their children, he cannot guarantee that when he leaves in April that the community will not just forget everything he taught them. It is this idea of personal will that makes me start to question the concept of development work. If people are provided with adequate education and are aware of the pros and cons of certain behaviors, what more can any one person or organization do to change another’s behavior? Does it become anyone’s place, then, to try? How much should anyone do before it comes to a question of someone’s own personal wishes and will?

I have no answers to any of these questions. I feel like I have learned a lot about Senegal and about myself last week and throughout this entire program. Yet I find that I am so much less sure about things than I was before I left the United States. I am glad I have had these experiences. I just wish I knew where to go from here.

Dindefelo, Reflections: Part III

11.05.09

Although Daniel stays in a compound with a well-off family, we did not have electricity or running water. It is not something we expected to find there and we managed well without it. The family was, however, able to watch TV or listen to the radio by hooking them up to Daniel’s host brother’s motorcycle. It’s pretty clever. We spent most dinners eating around the bowl outside watching the news on a small (usually black & white) television.

Wednesday night we were eating dinner with the TV on. There was some sort of conference or convention that we saw clips of on the news. Some African (likely Senegalese) religious or political leader was giving a speech (in French) about the millions of Africans who live in misery every day.

“It was just so weird!” Kate said the next morning as we sat on top of the waterfall. “There we were eating dinner around the bowl, watching television hooked up to a motorcycle, listening to this man talk. I mean, what can do people think when they hear that? They must think they’re talking about me.”

And she’s right. It was weird. We were perfectly content with our situation in the village that week. We didn’t lack food. We had enough water to shower. We had rather clean huts. We were living rather comfortably with very little. And yes, the family we stayed with had better-than-average-means. And no, I do not plan on living in Dindefelo or living that way for the rest of my life. Although we were in no way miserable.

Yet that’s what people seem to think when they hear about mud and straw huts with no running water or electricity. But that’s not how it is for the people of the village. Yes, they could do with more vegetables and variation in their diet. Yes, they could do with a clinic, hospital, or even a better poste de santé. Yes, the whole country in general could do with better roads, schools, infrastructure, etc. And Senegal definitely needs to U-Haul it’s entire political system. But no, the villagers don’t see themselves as miserable. They don’t think of themselves as poor Africans who live in misery. And that’s because they’re not.

I can’t imagine what it must feel like to have people think that about me and the way I live, and to have people say that about me and the way I live.

How dehumanizing that must be.

Dindefelo, Reflections: Part II

11.05.09

Daniel didn’t come with us Thursday morning up the mountain because he had a meeting at the village middle school. Tim, another PCV, had come over from his village the day before to help us with our garden. He came with us up the mountain.

Tim was originally stationed in Mauritania but got evacuated earlier this year. He is now completing his two years with the Peace Corps in Senegal and may extend his stay to the full two years if he wishes to. It seems that all the PCVs in the countries bordering Senegal have been evacuated. They may have just started the Peace Corps program up again in Mali, but Guinea-Bissau, Guinea, and Mauritania have all been deemed too dangerous for PCVs to continue their work. We met many PCVs originally stationed in Guinea who are now in Senegal. Tim says he thinks West Africa is following East Africa in the evacuation of PCVs.

When I told people where I was studying abroad, I got a few responses telling me how awesome that is. But I was mostly met with, “Oh, where’s that?” or “Why?” (both inquisitively and judgmentally.) And it’s fine. I couldn’t tell you a reason I came beyond, “I wanted to do something different.” Some people joked that I would catch some horrible disease or get eaten/trampled/gored by some type of safari animal.

That was all fine. I know people were just trying to be funny. I didn’t think much of it. But now, whenever I talk to friends back home or exchange emails or facebook messages with them, I feel like whenever I talk about Senegal, I’m being dishonest.

As hard as I may try to be honest and accurate when I tell people about my time here, I can’t help but feel like people think what I’m doing is so noble. As if they’re thinking, Oh wow, she’s in Africa. As if it took so much out of me to come here. And yes, on the one hand I do think I’ve had an extraordinary opportunity here. And I do believe I’m getting the not-so-average study abroad experience. But what am I really doing?

I’m a student. In Dakar, the capital and wealthiest city in the country. I live with a family that’s better off than average here. We have running water and electricity (no matter how sporadic and unreliable both are). I even have internet. It may not be true but I feel like some people think that I’m doing something so commendable by solely living in an African country. And yes, there are a hell of a lot of things here that differ from the United States. Senegal still is a developing country and there are a lot of things lacking, even in Dakar. But I don’t know how I’d be able to describe my experience here in any way that would make people understand that what I’m doing here isn’t that hard. At least, it’s not that hard for me. And that I’m not doing anything here to help save the world. I’m doubtful now that I can even do something like that.

Tim said he felt the same way about the Peace Corps—that people don’t understand what he actually does and that he doesn’t even know how much he’s helping out his village. But still, he is actually doing something in a village. What am I doing? I’m taking classes in air-conditioned classrooms with wireless access (sometimes) and I hang out with friends or travel on the weekends. I’m not doing something more commendable. I never planned on doing something more commendable. I came here to spend four months studying in a West African country. That’s what I’m doing. That’s it. Nothing grand.

Dindefelo, Reflections: Part I

11.05.09

I really enjoyed my rural visit. It was a good experience to stay with a Peace Corps Volunteer. Daniel has been in Senegal for over a year and a half. He leaves at the end of March. He was honest and sincere about everything we asked him. I was able to spend the week really thinking about my time here. Despite how much down time I have in Dakar, I hadn’t spent time thinking about my experience as a whole. Being at the source of the waterfall that Thursday morning, it all just kind of rushed to me.

I don’t like thinking that I change. I know I do change and I know things change me, but I don’t like thinking about it. Sitting at the waterfall that morning, I admitted to myself for the first time that this experience I have now—being in Senegal—has changed my life. That isn’t to say that I’m drastically different, or even that I’m noticeably different. It’s just that I know that had I stayed at Wellesley this semester, or had I studied abroad in France (like I had come into college thinking), I wouldn’t be the same person. I just feel that I’ve grown so much here. And yes, I would have grown at Wellesley and I would have grown had I studied elsewhere, but it would have been different. I would have been different. I don’t know how to explain it at all. But that morning, sitting on the ledge with Kate and Ellen, I said to them, “Fuck, guys. We’re in Senegal.” It just hit me how different the day I was having was from the day everybody else was having back home. It hit me how incredibly lucky I was to have the experience I was having. And how nobody outside the 50 other students on the program would fully understand my four months here.

People are going to ask me how my study abroad experience was. People are going to ask me about Senegal, about Africa. People have asked me these things on Skype and through emails. My answers are brief now—vague. But when I get back to the states, I’m going to see people in person. They’re going to expect real answers. What the fuck am I going to say?