Baal Ma

I apologize for the petit pause. I only promise it's because I have been out exploring Dakar and enjoying the time I have left here. I promise tonight there will be a post about Thanksgiving and the other weekend events.

The Best Day

I apologize for another small pause in my writing. The last two days have gone by quickly. The countdown is on for the Black World Festival here in Senegal, which unfortunately begins 12 hours before I fly out of Dakar. But they have a countdown on the front of each paper. Yesterday was J-16 (j is the first letter of jour, meaning "day"). This means there are only 16 days left in Senegal. Crazy.


Tuesday was one of the best days I had in a long time. I woke up early to go with Gaby to an elementary school where he teaches 2 to 6 year olds. It was the first time I was in the classroom in at least a year. I gave a short presentation to the children about my trumpet, and then Gaby surprised me by telling me I was going to play two short songs. I had only planned one, so I was improvising the other. Anyone who knows me as a trumpet player knows I have never really been an improviser. Even though the second song wasn't really a standard, the children loved it! This experience definitely solidified my confidence in wanting to return to the classroom as an ethno-educator.

Yesterday most of the day was spent shopping and cooking. I am proud to say that even though there are no pumpkin or turkeys in Senegal, we will be cooking a proud American feast today for Thanksgiving. Maybe if you're lucky, I will have time tonight to put up some pictures of the fete. So here's a "Happy Thanksgiving!" greeting from across the ocean!

Un Petit Pause...

I apologize for the short hiatus I had in blog entries this weekend. On Thursday, my balafon teacher told me that I need to relax and let go of stress because I was having a hard time focusing during my lesson. It is very important for  me to concentrate during my lessons because without concentration, it is impossible for me to learn. Thankfully, one of my friends is conducting research on Gorree, so it is very easily accessible for a little mini-vacation.

Even though it was very short (only Saturday afternoon to Sunday morning), I saw one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen in my life.

One thing I often lack in myself is the confidence that I can accomplish something. However, the confidence I found in that sunset over Dakar will help sustain my concentration and ability to accomplish the last leg of my journey here in Senegal.

A New Kind of Best Friend

A friend of mine yesterday received a google news alert of an article I found very amusing and interesting. It was about Tabaski, the festival of sacrifice of Eid Al-Adha, the secondest biggest holiday in Islam. The article's title expresses the heart of the relationship of West Africa with the sheep: "In Senegal, a sheep is a man's best friend."

Tabaski is very much similar to other Islamic holidays; it is a when the men attend mosque in the morning and the women cook delicious food (and make delicious juice!! I had the most fantastic coconut juice). But it is also a day in which many sheep are sacrificed. As the article states, the Quran recommends that every adult believer with the monetary capability must sacrifice a sheep.

It was very interesting to me as a westerner to see all the advertisements before Tabaski. I bought a paper this past Monday with an advirtisement at the top for Orange Money. If I would have sent money with orange money before Tabaski, I would have been entered in a drawing to win a sheep; one sheep was given away daily. The soccer field acrossed from my house was also converted into a sheep market. On Tuesday, it was a normal sight to see people pick up a sheep and put it into their trunk.

While some westerners would disregard this as a crazy obsession, I find it an interesting cultural musing. In discussion with friends, we compared the Senegalese mouton (this is the French word for sheep; I'm not a big fan of saying sheep, just because I think mouton sounds cooler) obsession to the western obsession with the perfect Christmas tree. If an Senegalese saw an American cut an evergreen and put it in the trunk, they would probably find us just as crazy.

For further reading, if you're interested, here is a link to the article. "In Senegal, a sheep is a man's best friend."

http://niger1.com/?p=1138

The Ethno-Edcuator

Right now we are in the middle of the ISP period. "ISP" stands for independent study project. For four weeks we develop our own research projects to investigate something of our choosing. I began November by taking balafon lessons with music teacher and ethnomusicologist Gaby Ba. Along with taking lessons, I have been reading a lot about the connections between ethnomusicology and music education.

As an ethnomusicologist, I am studying music here to better understand how people relate and react to music in West Africa. Through taking balafon lessons, I am learning African musical traditons (rhythm, dance, and instruments) by actively participating and learning it is transmitted. There is a famous quote by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow that states that music is a universal language; however, I have found (through learning and reading) that every culture has different ideas about what music is and how it should be used. To quote Bruno Nettl (a famous ethnomusicologist), "And as each culture undergoes modernization, it takes what it wishes or needs from other musics with which it has had contact, combining, synthesizing, fusing, and all of this is its new authenticity." Basically, in the 21st century, music is a mixture of every other culture's music. I can see that with just my short time here in Senegal. American music is everywhere literally.

But what is an ethno-educator then exactly? To me this is what I want to be. An ethno-educator is one that takes time to learn a culture in its tradition as an ethnomusicologist and then educates others of their musical traditions (whether it being singing or instrumental). I think this is especially relevant with children, who appreciate active learning. Who wouldn't love an elementary classroom filled with singing and dancing little ones? By sharing this rich musical culture with children, I hope that one day change how Africa is viewed by the world.

Bon Tabaski!

So the realization has come that I  have less than a month left here in Senegal. I feel like I still have so much to do, and so little time to do it. Today and tomorrow while the Senegalese Muslims are celebrating Tabaski (also known as Aid El Kebir- the grand celebration). It is the second-most important Islamic holiday, in which they remember Abraham's sacrifice of the lamb instead of his son Ishmael. While I partake in holiday festivities, I will be also making a laundry list of things I must visit and do before I leave Dakar.

I feel one thing I need to do more for the last month is update this blog more regularly of places I visit, and thiings I encounter on a daily basis. I have discussed with several friends in the last week of how some things have become everyday affairs to me but how uncommon they would feel in the west. So for the next month expect to learn the ins (and outs) of Senegalese culture and life.

Bon Tabaski!

Mbokk et autre choses

Today was a rather interesting day.This afternoon I was on my way to Ouakam for my balafon lesson. I was waiting my teacher's house when a man passing on foot began to speak to me. He told me I was lost, and I shouldn't be in Africa.
After I went upstairs, I had a long conversat about the difficulty of being a female "Toubab." If you don't know the meaning of toubab, it is the Senegalese joking nickname for white people. It is extremely difficult to be in the female minority. It's not easy to meet people that know I can call friends. Men ask me on a daily basis whether I am married. Yes, for you, I'm married.

This discussion reminded me of a lecture we had about Senegalese values. Two very important words in Wolof are mbokk and njaboot. Mbokk is having something in common; it also includes the sense of responsiblity for one another and a sense of social security. I love it because I know if I don't know where I am going, all I have to do is ask the people around me, and I know I will always get there. The second word is njaboot, which literally means family. But as a family member, it is assumed you have a big heart, you are open, and are responsible. Njaboot is also relateable to the phrase "Nit, nitay girabam." The human is the remedy for each other. The first time I truely felt the meaning of the word njaboot was the second time I spoke with my advisor on the phone. He said, "Now, you are part of the family."

Through the Eyes of a Child: the Peul Bande

I'm sorry for it being over a week wince I last updated. I have been busy this week with my last week of classes and other various activities that I will update you on soon. :-) Anyways, in other ways I have been putting off my next entry because I knew how much time and effort it was going to take. So now, the Peul Bande through the eyes of a child.

“Only those who look with the eyes of children can lose themselves in the object of their wonder.” – Eberhard Arnold

Children’s eyes are the windows to their souls. If you look into their eyes you will see the innocence of youth and their admiration of the world. I spent much of my time in Bounda Kodi learning how life appears to those children. From Monday October 18 to Thursday October 21^st I lived with the Peul Bande people of Bounda Kodi. The Peul Bande is really a smaller branch of the larger ethnic group the Fulani or the Fulbe. They are primarily a nomadic tribe that is based mostly in West and Central Africa. They speak language Pulaar, and the Peul Bande embraces the Islamic religious tradition. The Peuls inherit their name from the French, who borrowed the term from Wolof (“Pel”).

The children in the village seemed like one large family. Personally I had a difficult time occasionally differentiating between which children belonged to which family. Everyone took a hand in looking out for other’s children and made sure they had food to eat. One small girl took a particularly strong role as mother for the other children. Her name was Fatou, and she was only six years old. She was always holding a child’s hand or would respond quickly to another that was crying.

Even though their village did not even own a soccer ball to play with, each of these conversations was trimmed with the same hope that I saw glow in the eyes of the children. The hope that they help them have these dreams and thoughts that thing will work out. It is their children’s wonder that helps them continue to dream and find ways to make it work. Their value of hope is one of the key bonds that bring them together as a family. They are all working together towards the common good of a better life. It’s their hope in life and their hope in each other that cause their eyes to shine with the wonder of a child.