Biking - Peace Corps Style

Biking is a primary means of transportation for a lot of Peace Corps volunteers. Cars may come and go, but bikes are the only reliable transportation for Peace Corps members, especially for those who live in remote parts of Senegal off the beaten bush path where sept plus' and car rides may are infrequent. This is why no one particularly found it daunting when it was suggested that 17 Peace Corps members, and myself venture on a 25 km (which turns out to be a lie - it was much farther) bike ride through the bush to camp for a night by a waterfall that even most locals have not trekked to.

The day began bright and early, and we were all packed and ready to go by 8 a.m. Our plan was to take a sept plus (the cars that I mentioned in my earlier post) with 10 people to Dindefelo - the closest town to the waterfall that we could reach by car. To ride from Kedougou to Dindefelo would’ve literally doubled the mileage of the trip, so half of us opted out of that and allowed only the most serious (or seriously deranged) of Peace Corps bikers to bike and meet us there. 

Taking a car with 10 people, however, also included 10 bikes and half of our groups supplies! We really had a magical sept plus driver who actually managed to, somewhat, secure 10 bikes on top of each other, on top of a sedan! This was quite a sight to behold, and if it weren’t enough for the locals to be amused by so many tubabs (white people) in a car, they were that much more amused to see the bikes on top! And with all the potholes and flooded out sections of the road I’m still quite uncertain how we made it to Dindefelo without a single mishap.

At Dindefelo we added another member to our team, Lily. Lily is from Spain and has spent the last two years living in Senegal in order to study the behavior of Chimps. We waited in her hut, which, needless to say was covered in pictures of primates and Jane Goodall, for the others to arrive by bike. Finally, by 11 a.m. after everyone had rolled in and our bellies were loaded with omelet sandwiches, and cafe tuba, and our bikes were loaded with all our tents, supplies, 12 chickens, and a bucket of beans, we were ready to set off into the Bush!

First stop, Eric’s Village. He lives on a bush path between Dindefelo and the waterfall, about 7 km in, and trying to keep up with him was no easy task. The path is filled with sand so slippery it feels more like skiing than biking, not to mention the trail is littered with sharp ominous rocks that are there to catch you when you fall. We did have a few casualties along the way but nothing too extreme. 

We reached Eric’s hut within an hour, which made me optimistic about the next alleged 18 km left. We continued on and eventually the sand turned into mud that clumped to our tires. The puddles of mud then turned into rivers that we all had to wade across. 

Several km later led us to another village deep in the Bush. It was like something the yellow brick road would lead you to in Oz. The whole villages was filled with row after row of planted corn; in fields, in backyards, in side yards, off the path. Though it was rainy season, this rivaled any of the greener sceneries I had see in Senegal so far. The rows of corn literally formed a maze around the village, and we had to lift our bikes over several fences in order to make our way through the village. The people were incredibly friendly too, and helped us along the way.

Biking down one of the villages narrow, corn surrounded, gravelly paths, we had our first real bike accident. One of the girls' tires slipped out on the gravel and, in the process of trying to break her fall with her hand, she managed to carve a small, but deep cut in her hand. The amount of blood it created was overwhelming despite the small size of the wound. Fortunately Peace Corps volunteers are ready for this kind of thing and after swabs of alcohol were used to clean the cut (which was way more painful than the fall it self), and a bit of gauze, we were back on the trail again. 

The accident was fortunately minor, but all Peace Corps members are aware of how bad bike accidents can be sometime. Leah is especially so. The year before, a simple attempt of dismounting her bike had led to an accident that snapped her ankle in half. She had to be med-evaced to D.C., where she had surgery! So the fact that we had managed to make it about halfway (or so we thought) through such rough terrain with only a minor cut, was quite an accomplishment!

We stumbled out of the village in Oz and continued on our way. From here the path got even more difficult! Puddles of mud turned into whole fields of it that clumped and stuck to our tires. When it became impossible to pedal, we had to push our bikes trudging through wet hot mud that splashed several inches above our ankles. This is the first of many places on this trip that I may have adopted my intestines' future parasitic friend, and also, my mysterious rash. 

Finally, after five hours, a Peace Corps member so dehydrated we thought we would have to send for a moto (aka motorcycle obviously) from a nearby village, ample use of ORS salts (hydration salts) and some more river forging, we finally made it to the fall! And what a sight it was! It was incredibly spectacular and my photos hardly do it a bit of justice. Left out of the photo, after climbing all those rocks to the very top is a pool where the fall feeds into. It’s like a small wave pool from Disney world. You can swim out right under the waterfall, though it feels like a ton of bricks landing on your head.

Our time to swim was cut short by the rain that started about an hour after our arrival. Leah and I frantically set up our tent, but by the time we managed to secure our haphazard rain tarp, the downpour had already caused a minor flood inside. We spent the next hour, four of us huddled in the tiny tent, laughing hysterically as we used cups to literally bale ourselves out! What an experience. 

Finally the rain passed, and we set about the difficult task of building a fire with wet logs to cook the 12 raw chickens the boys thought would be a good idea to bring for dinner. Eventually the fire was made and the chicken began to cook. We boiled water from the river to make pasta, and I contributed by filtering, pumping, boiling, adding iodine tablets, and bleach (I think my teeth goth whiter from all the bleach water I drank) to several liters of water to make sure we all could hydrate.

We all went to bed with full bellies and exhausted bodies. Thank goodness because that made it possible to sleep on the wet, hard, ground. In the morning we had bean sandwiches and another swim in the waterfall before it was time to head back. Such an adventure for such a short time at the falls.

It was only about 45 minutes into our inevitable five hour trip back before the greatest of all bike accidents occurred. Fortunately no one was at all injured, but as we attempted to trudge our way through the first muddy swamp, Kate’s tire went flat. Flats our usually no big deal when you bring a patch kit and a pump, like we all had. However, this was not a simple puncture in the tire. The tires nozzle had been pulled right out of the tire in the sticky mud! We were doomed! Half of our group continued the bike trek back to Dindefelo with Eric. Eric biked ahead to his village where he knew he had another tire in his hut, and three of us stayed with Kate and walked. 

Apparently, with the amount of rainfall the night before, biking wasn’t much faster than walking, though. After an hour we had caught up to the entire group washing their bikes in a river. The mud was so thick that biking most of the route so far had proved impossible. I’m not surprised since just attempting to push it through the mud was nearly an unachievable feat!

But they continued on their way and we sat for awhile cooling off and splashing in the little river. Fortunately the four of us were a great group to be walking together. We merrily made our way to the village of Oz where some members who spoke Pular were able to ask for the robinet and we were able to fill our bottles with more water. We made small talk with the kind hearted citizens of Oz before we were on our way again. 

Just outside of Oz we met up with Eric who had managed to make it to his hut and race back with the spare! He fixed Kate’s bike, we had a few snacks, and were on our way. 


At this point we were all so delirious that everything became funny. Especially our attempt to cross the biggest river of all! I had no strength left in me and one of the other girls had to come back and lift my bike above the waist deep water to prevent all our gear from getting wet. Leah had planned accordingly, and had offered to take all of our gear that was wet from the rain the night before, thus not worrying if it went under the water in this river. In fact she did not even attempt to keep it from going under. It was quite hilarious, when after sweating profusely from the exertion of getting our bikes through, we all looked back to see Leah, merrily wading through the water, with her bike so submerged only the handle bars were showing! I know someone has a picture of this somewhere!

The sight of Dindefelo could not appear more welcoming when we finally strolled up to it’s huts. Lily had a fine pasta meal waiting for our muddy, sweaty selves which we ate with enthusiasm before running to catch the car that would take us back to Kedougou. I don’t think a bucket shower under a canopy of stars has ever felt more nice than the one I took when we got back to the Peace Corps house!

Best Day Ever!

Life in Peace Corps: Senegal is not always easy for the volunteers. Living in a hut in a village trying to dance around unfamiliar customs of locals while also dealing with Western bureaucracy of the Peace Corps while simultaneously learning to use a hole for a bathroom, a bucket for a shower, and function while undernourished because of the lack of nutrition in the village meals is as far away from the night I spent in the Radisson Blu as the moon is! (phew end of run on sentence, but I think you get the point) However, I was exceptionally fond of Leah’s optimism and the way she stayed more positive then most. She has adopted a sort of personal mantra in which she reflects upon, even the smallest positive things, and refers to them as ‘the best day ever!’ My arrival in Dakar - ‘best day ever!’ Running water - ‘best day ever!’ A lunch served with egg plant so heavily cooked all the nutrients had dissolved into the boiling water (but still a lunch with veggies!) - ‘best day ever!’ You get the idea. But honestly, every day I spent in Saraya (Leah’s village that is about 160 km east of Kedougou and a rocks throw from Mali) really was the best day ever. 

We left the Peace Corps house, aka campground (there are no actual enclosed building structures on the compound) at about 8 a.m. and headed to the Kedougou garage. The garage is where you hope to find a driver and a car going to the city you want, and you wait...and wait....and wait....and wait until the driver has enough people in the car to go. The cars are called Sept places (french for seven places i.e. seven seats in the car) but they usually turn into nine or ten places and the driver! The cars themselves appear as though they’ve been shipped over from a European junkyard where they were stripped of all their parts; dashboard, radio, door panels, floor boards, had a shoddy engine installed and are now ready for the Senegalese road i.e. asphalt with so many potholes it is often better to drive on the side of the road than on it!

Fortunately the car was nearly filled when we got there and we took off an hour after arriving. The drive from Kedougou to Saraya is the best drive ever! The road is actually new and the one exception to the pothole filled roads of Senegal. It winds through greener scenery than I have ever seen, and clouds that look like cotton candy, so low to the ground you feel you could easily lasso them and pull them out of the sky. All of this is courtesy to the rainy season, and not an image that appears year round, but I was thankful to have witnessed it. It was one of the most beautiful landscapes I’ve ever seen. 

Just at the point where my newfound claustrophobia, induced by nine unfamiliar people crammed into the car along with me, took over, we reached Saraya. Slowly, so slowly, we made our way to Leah’s compound stopping to greet everyone along the way. In Malinke you greet by asking repeatedly if there is evil around and by acknowledging that, no, there is not. There is no evil with my brother, nor my mother, nor my father, nor my sister. It is a long greeting, and complicated. By the end of the week I only could manage to ask or respond to the very first part! 

Finally we arrived, 150 meters later, at Leah’s compound. I met the family, mom, dad, sister, sister in-law, brother, deaf brother, 15 year-old brother. They are all some of the most amazing people I have ever had the opportunity to meet! Mom even gave me a name - Diounkounda Sakilabah! I was named after the sister that lived on the compound, as recycling names often is apparently a common practice. 

I ended up staying at Saraya a whole wonderful week, despite the fact that it was sweltering there considering they had no rain in ten days (it usually rains at least every other day in the rainy season). The first night I was literally floored as I watched Leah do her weekly radio show entirely in Malinke! To say I was impressed is an understatement. Leah is a Health Volunteer so in between songs by Amy Winehouse, Regina Spektor and whatever else she chose for the night, she’d offer her Malinke audience a few health tips. It was Ramadan, so a lot of them revolved around that: don’t fast if you're breast feeding or pregnant, if you are working in the fields and feel dizzy sit down and if it doesn’t get better break fast and drink some water, try to stay in cool places if possible. These all may seem like basic guidelines to us, but a lot of Malinke need to be made aware or reminded of them. 

Around the compound, I learned to shell peanuts with Leah’s ‘Mom.’ We even went to the fields with her, but the lack of rain had dried up the soil so much that there wasn’t much work to be done. One evening Leah and I made beignets but Leah added moringa (an outrageously nutritious, vitamin filled leaf) to them to show her family how they could cook and be healthy. I also learned the art of the douche. Having a hole for the bathroom was definitely new terrain for me, as well as no toilet paper. Mentally I was unfazed by it, but the logistics are not always easy! After sweltering and humid days in Saraya, I also really learned to appreciate my nightly bucket bath! 

I was also incredibly fortunate and honored because Leah’s family deemed me a guest worth cooking for! We had thick mafe with meat (it is usually only a runny sauce served with leftover carne) and bisap and moringa leaf sauce that was delicious. The food is all a grain (rice, millet or cous cous) based meal with the sauces poured over top. It’s eaten out of a communal bowl with the right hand. Leah and I eat with spoons - the family knows we have them and apparently think it’s weird when we try to eat without silverware. 

I did catch a glimpse of what Leah’s regular meals were like though, and they certainly left something to be desired. For lunch we’d occasionally eat with the kids (the parents were fasting) and it usually was an oily rice dish with crushed peanuts that were almost unnoticeable in flavor. Not to mention eating with kids is not like eating with adults. The whole cleanliness idea really just goes out the window! Leah and I usually ended up going to the sandwich lady in the market and getting a bean, or omelette, or just a mayonnaise (yes, and it was delicious) sandwich. 

One of the most memorable moments of my time in village was when Leah, Kate (the agricultural volunteer) and I biked to Pondala (kate’s former village) a 20 km ride from Saraya. There, on the boutique (the local shop) we painted a mural. Usually the Peace Corps promotes educational murals to be painted around villages, such as world maps. But a world map had already been painted on one of the walls of the boutique, so we decided to spice it up a bit. I designed a vintage postcard style mural that said ‘Aloha Pondala’ at the top. We spent the entire afternoon painting it and the village loved it!

After a week in Saraya, I was really sad to say goodbye. I even hugged my namesake, the first Diounkounda, goodbye! Something that is not really done in Senegalese culture. While I cannot imagine living there for 2 years (Leah I give you so much credit), the week was a wonderfully memorable experience!


Be sure to check out Leah's blog of her experience in Peace Corps: Senegal here http://lmosenegal.wordpress.com/ 

Welcome to Senegal!

After flying from Istanbul - sketchy stopover in Tunisia included, I finally landed in Dakar, Senegal at 1 a.m. I was instantly confused by the lack of queuing observed at the Immigration line, but finally managed to work my way through the mobs of people there. Getting around baggage claim and through Customs was like being a running back in football and dodging opponents left and right! And then I was free. 

I searched the mass of people outside for my friend...and found her almost instantaneously. We - the only white people around - both stood out like glow sticks in the crowd. Even at our most tan we were not close to blending in. I was so pleased to see Leah, I jumped the fence, ran and hugged! And then found out that her boyfriend was there as well but puking his guts up around the corner. He must’ve eaten something strange. I immediately thought to myself, ‘oh god, so this is how it’s going to be!’

That night at said boyfriend - a.k.a. Nathaniel's apartment I acclimated to the Senegalese weather. I was used to the heat at this point, the idea of air conditioning and a fan had be come an utmost luxury I’d learned to live without, but the humidity of rainy season was entirely new to me. I spent the night lying on my back, arms and legs stretched out because it was too hot to even touch my own skin, melting drop by drop into a puddle on the mattress. 

Fortunately Leah is an early riser so the next morning, after a large mug of Starbucks Via Instant Coffee (courtesy of a care package from the U.S.), we left poor Nathaniel (still sick from whatever he ate) in bed and headed out into the city. Leah took me through the markets first. It reminded me a bit of Cairo, but smaller, less populated, and way sandier. Much more colorful though, with vibrant wax fabrics of sunset reds, deep sea blues, canary yellows, and lush tropical greens, being sold in every shop. 

The day passed quickly, and by 10 p.m. we were boarding the night bus from Dakar to Kedougou. Kedougou is a town about as far South East as you can go and still be in Senegal. It's is only a short distance from the borders of Guinea and Mali. 

For some perspective Senegal is slightly smaller in size than South Dakota, but by bus it still took a full 12 hours to arrive in Kedougou. Fortunately we only had one minor break-down en route. At about 1 a.m. I woke up as I felt the bus shuddering to a stop. I stepped outside along with everyone else and watched as every male passenger proceeded to help the driver fix the flat, at least that’s what I hoped they were doing. Mostly it just looked like a bunch of men standing over a large tire beating it repetitively with a wrench, hammer, and a few sticks as well. 

I settled down next to Leah on the side of the road and prepared to wait it out. I was informed that sometimes these break downs could last as long as 5 hours before they were fixed! But this one was minor and we were on the road within the hour, but not before I  managed to catch a glimpse of the sky out there in the ‘Bush.’ I never knew there were so many stars in the sky, I could even see the milky way! It looked like someone had just thrown white glittery paint on a black canvas, and what had appeared was shining orbs, flecked in an array of sizes and intensity. I was awestruck. 

We arrived at Kedougou with no other set-backs, besides are bags having been momentarily ‘misplaced.’ But those too arrived after a few hours of waiting. We made our way to the Peace Corps Regional House (where all 20 or so members placed in nearby villages can come to have the occasional running water, internet access, a full kitchen, books, and other americans around). I also managed to have my last ‘real’ shower of the week there. 

That night we went out with a couple of volunteers to have dinner. However, the restaurant we were hoping to eat at was closed due to Ramadan. We had to look elsewhere, so by day two in Senegal, I was already breaking one of two rules Leah had established for me - no street food, and no well water. That night was a delicious meal of chicken and french fries served from a little shack in the market.