Police died. Probably my saddest moment in Senegal so far. Police is my nearest volunteer neighbor’s dog’s girlfriend. Yes, I know this is a bit of an obscure death, especially since a 10 year old girl died in my own village only a short while ago. The difference was that with Police I felt how completely helpless life in Senegal can be. The girl in my village was a kid I didn’t know and I heard about her illness after the fact. Police was a young friendly dog who even visited me in village with my nearest neighbor (Amanda) and her dog (Nacho). When I showed up in Amanda’s village on Dec. 23rd I was just coming to see Police’s new puppies, and visit Amanda for the morning. I wasn’t expecting Amanda to tell me Police had been in labor for 2 days, was covered in blood and was so exhausted you could drag her across the dirt without a single whimper of protest. No puppies. And no options. We couldn’t take her to a vet; there aren’t any in a 4 hour radius, assuming the best traveling conditions. No one in Amanda’s village cared if Police died. We tried everything we could think of, searching through Amanda’s own med kit, trying to reach into Police’s uterus, and even considered trying to make a small incision in her stomach. In the end she wandered off and was found dead about an hour after I went home to Thiewal Lao. I cried that night…and not just because of Police but because I know that my sister-in-law Djonfollo could have a similar experience. She could be stuck, bleeding and exhausted, with no easy way to a doctor and I could be sitting with her feeling just as helpless. Granted a doctor is a little easier to come by than a vet and the family would be far more willing to make sacrifices to help her, but it happens.
To make things worse, Amanda’s own dog is now sick, and she isn’t sure he is going to be waiting in village for her when she returns. And there really isn’t much she can do about it. It kind of gets you down.
But while we are on the topic of dogs I want to move on to happier things (since I don’t like sad stories). Happier things being my new puppy! She is an adorable little brindle puppy with white paws, a white tip on her tail and a white stripe on her face. Her name is Kindii (Kin-dy) Sabaly. Kindii is a Senegalese name (short for Kindiima) and Sabaly is my last name here. The Senegalese think it is hilarious that I gave her a Senegalese name (everyone except the women she is named after, who is offended). Most dogs here don’t even get a name but a human name is quite the exception. They joke around and call her my baby and if she isn’t with me when I walk around the village they all ask where she is! She eats all the same food as we do and she is the pickiest dog that ever got to eat human food (see if that tells you anything about the food we eat here). She makes it so much easier to stay in village and do my job.
Getting Kindii to village was an adventure. She was born in the house of the family my younger sister lives with when she goes away to school for the year (middle school). This village is about 30k from my village. I showed up there as it was getting dark because the Senegalese transportation took forever as usual. When I arrived I went into the family compound (I have only met this family once for maybe a total of 5 minutes) and asked if I could possibly spend the night. They were more than accommodating, they begged me to stay another night and when I went back 2 weeks later they were asking if I would spend the night again! Right after dinner during my first extended visit, as we were drinking tea, they came up and dropped Kindii in my lap! They knew I had wanted her as I had seen the puppies the first time I visited. I was so happy. So after spending a fun night (we went to a random wedding to dance) in their village, I went to school with my middle school sister. It was math class…and I think it is safe to say that school here is pretty tough. The teachers lack creativity and the students have no idea what the teacher is trying to teach as they do not explain the concepts well. I am sure there are some very talented teachers here but the guy I watched wasn’t one of them…my sister agreed. After school I finally headed home, with a huge backpack of stuff on the back of my bike from my trip to Dakar and a Kindii...swinging in a purse…from my neck. So classy. I biked the 30k to village like that, alternating between shoving Kindii back into the bag and thinking she was dead every time she went to sleep. I even had to battle my way through a herd of cows on the main road. I arrived in village to a very surprised but happy Senegalese family (after being gone for two weeks I showed up unannounced with a puppy). That night Kindii whined her little head off in my hut - I think she woke up the entire village.
Kindii has also opened my eyes to an entertaining fact. Puppies, like us white folk, are greatly feared by Senegalese youth, not full grown dogs (all of whom are the size of Labradors), but puppies, and kittens also. On the other hand, my youngest baby sister has always been afraid of me, but she loves Kindii (from a distance). She sees Kindii on my lap now and she always wants to do what Kindii does so she, out of the blue, came over and ‘asked’ (her Pulaar is significantly worse than mine) if I would pick her up. I was overjoyed!
The Senegalese find my interactions with Kindii hilarious. Since I give her commands in Pulaar they seem to think she is learning Pulaar like me. They don’t understand that she can only really learn one command so they speak to her in sentences. They also like to give her Mandinka commands since that is what you say to get Amanda’s dog to shake, sit, lay, come, etc. They also laugh when I talk to her. In the Henkler family if you are being silly we like to call you a turkey…well I didn’t know the Pulaar word for turkey so when Kindii was being silly and scared to walk away from an area she was familiar with, I asked her if she was a chicken or a dog…the villagers around me pretty much feel to the floor laughing…apparently I’m funny in Thiewal Lao. The villagers also LOVE feeding Kindii; they get as upset if she doesn’t as if I don’t eat. She eats so much she can’t walk after meal times. And now when we do regular Pulaar greetings, How’s your family, how’s the sun, how’s the work, how’s your uncle, how’s your god sister twice removed etc, they say how is your baby to me…and then gesture at Kindii.
Senegalese people don’t celebrate Thanksgiving…but ironically enough they do celebrate Christmas. This is not surprising for the Christians…but kind of funny for the Muslims. They have no idea what they are celebrating; they just want to have a party! Gotta love it! The kids even get Christmas vacation from school.
For anyone who ever noticed my half thumb at a strange time…prepare to feel less silly. Amanda, my neighbor, who I have now known for 8 months, just discovered my half thumb…and this is how it happened. I was standing in the garage with Amanda and Wilma waiting for our car to leave. My right hand was pressed against my leg and Amanda turns to Wilma and says look, doesn’t it look like Kelly’s thumb just ends there? Like it’s a stump? And Wilma stared at her for a second and I laughed like it was a joke and then Amanda was like how do you bend your thumb that far, I can’t even see it. At which point I showed her my thumb only for her to realize my thumb really is a stump. It was hilarious, for all of us!
I finished my first solo mural (the first mural I did with my language group turned out so poorly that I don’t think it can really be counted anyway). It is pretty big and depicts the 4 food groups (we teach a modified nutrition pyramid) and a healthy vs. a malnourished child. And let me tell you, Michelangelo, despite all of his fame, still doesn’t get enough credit. Painting a mural is physically, yes physically demanding, it should be a D1 sport. I can’t even imagine painting one on a ceiling. It took me 3 days full of work to finish mine. Granted, I was working with the worst, cancer causing paint money can buy, but still. The hard work paid off before the mural was even finished. The most important group to educate about nutrition is mothers. There happened to be a vaccination tourney in the health post when my mural was close to done. 30ish pregnant and nursing women were sitting in a room with my mural, along with a relais and the health committee secretary. I grabbed the two of them, briefed them on a nutrition causerie (which they were already familiar with) and then let them do their thing. It was great, I was grinning like an idiot. I only had to help get the audience to participate…which I did by stealing babies and not giving them back unless the mothers would get up in front of the group. I know this sounds absurd but the Senegalese thought it was hilarious.
The Islamic New Year (Tamkarit) happened during mid-Dec. It was among my favorite Senegalese celebrations. My dad came up to me with an unidentified cup and was like drink, and then wash your face, this is medicine. Understandably, I was a bit nervous about undisclosed Senegalese medicine, and I didn’t really want to smear anything sticky all over my face but my dad kept insisting so I did it. Turns out it was water, blessed by the Imam. The kids also trick or treat for real! On Tamkarit Eve the kids run around and sing and dance for rice and peanuts (I got to give out rice). They are far more entertaining than trick-or-treaters in America and all future trick-or-treaters in America who visit my house will now have to sing and dance for candy, I suggest you all do the same. The next day the kids get medi gerte – a rice and peanut containing treat! I also went to the Tamkarit service at the Imam’s house and they did the “Peace be with you” Greeting like in many Christian churches! But while shaking hands we were saying “Allah grant you a good New Year.”
As I sit here typing I am drinking tea, I just drank a bug…didn’t even spit it out.
Right around Tamkarit my little brother Djibi got very sick. It lasted for a few days and I started to get worried. I asked if they thought it was malaria and they said they did. When I asked why they didn’t go to the hospital they said they didn’t have the money. I said I would give them the money and they said they would wait until the holiday was over, at which point I said I would take him during the holiday. They agreed. This is completely unsustainable but I would feel terrible if something happened to Djibi. So we went and got the medicine, it cost me about 3 bucks although I did have to get the pharmacist to go the nurse’s home since the health post was closed for the holiday (on a holiday, even if you go the 18k to the health post, you might still be unable to see the Dr.). Ironically my family bought bananas and fish along with some other things that made it pretty clear that they did have the money…but I will try not to think about that. They can buy new clothes and other similar things but they can’t save to take their kids to the hospital. The upside of this was that I threatened not to pay if Djibi didn’t go to the mosquito net as soon as it got dark which meant I finally got someone with malaria to get under a net when it is dark, like they should! I also had a chance to show my Senegalese parents that I keep a stash of emergency money in my hut and to encourage them to do the same. I said I wouldn’t pay for the hospital in the future because they should save their money for medical emergencies…and I think they might actually do it. They might use the saved money to buy a donkey cart instead but at least they are saving.
A little Pulaar vocab for you – mentally handicapped is the same word they use for unrippened fruit or unfinished dinner; they say the person is ‘bendaani,’ or ‘not finished.’ I thought that was interesting.
I visited a new health post last week. I think this is my favorite health post so far. The Dr. was engaging; he gave full attention to his patients and gave thorough exams. He explained both preventative care and the diagnosis very well (comparatively). I saw a cool birth control idea called cycle beads. It is a ring of beads that are colored depending on the day of the menstrual cycle. You move a ring from bead to bead and when your period starts you restart the 28 bead circuit. I am sure it is not as foolproof as other methods but it is cheaper than most and culturally interesting since it kind of mimics prayer beads. I was looking at the registry of pregnant women who had been in for consultations and I found a 20 yr old with 4 kids! At least she sees the doctor?!
While showering the other night I thought I heard rain…which would be strange since it is absolutely not rainy season right now. When I finally went in front of my hut I saw that it was a HUGE fire. I asked my mom what was going on and she mentioned that it was controlled; they were just burning a field. Here we go slash and burn farming…anyone know a good alternative?! It did look cool though…
I am a huge fan of 101 Dalmatians, but I was not a huge fan of the reenactment the village dogs performed. Remember the twilight bark, where all the dogs are barking to send a message? Well the village dogs decided on the 4AM bark, it was ridiculous, all the dogs were just randomly barking for about 20 minutes, adding to the already loud sleeping environment provided by village. Kindii, the best dog in village did not participate, but when I switched on my headlamp to make sure she stayed inside (my family thinks the big dogs will eat her if she leaves my hut at night) I saw her crammed into a corner in fright…I guess maybe the big dogs really might not like the puppies.
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