Guest Blog from MB aka Mariama Souaré

WARNING. This blog has been kidnapped by Mariama Souaré (aka MB) to give you all the inside scoop on my recent visit (with Hawa Souaré, aka Heather) to Senegal. I tend to ramble in informal, narrative writings. Apparently, I can only be succinct when writing about science. Consider it a symptom of my enthusiasm. (Also, I overuse parentheses. Deal with it.)

1. K is a badass. We all know this already, but why not point out the obvious? (and perhaps K asked me to… are you going to delete that?). She puts up with/goes without so, so many things that most of us can’t even image. Think about K next time you complain about almost anything – chances are good she’s dealing with a situation far worse, and doing so cheerfully.

2. K is surrounded by wonderful people. This is probably how she has managed to stay sane despite the many challenges thrown her way. The other PCVs are fabulous (especially M), and K’s family is completely wonderful. Rest assured, she is happy, healthy, well –loved and looked after (not that she needs much looking after – she is a badass, after all). But this should not stop you from sending her packages of tasty food.

3. If you go to Senegal, none of your plans will work out. You may come up with a perfectly wonderful sounding Plan A, B, C, and D, but in reality, your itinerary will end up looking more like a mishmash of Plans Q and U. But that’s ok! You will have a fabulous time nonetheless. Just be ready and willing to be flexible. A sampling of things that didn’t work in Senegal:

-The ice cream machine in Kedougou (I’ve since gotten over this disappointment, but I was rather bitter at the time)
-Waterfalls (many are a trickle at best due to an unusually dry rainy season this year)
-Rain (see above)
-Sunsets (again because of the lack of rain and therefore clouds, as clouds are what make sunsets fabulous)
-Bikes (I really need to learn some bike repair skills… K on the other hand, had become quite knowledgeable)
-The door on M’s hut (aka the Love Shack… can we please adopt this name for M’s house? K doesn’t seem as enthusiastic as I am about this idea, but I think the majority rules in this case, so who’s with me??)
-Transportation, especially ferries that only run on certain days of the week, and then are sold out (but many thanks to Jared for trying to get us tickets!)
-Running water (optional at the PCV house in K’gou, as well as the hotel in Toubab Dialao)
-Tracking down an Obama belt in Dakar (they are SO COOL, yet so elusive…)
-Hamburgers in France (aka the French Cultural Institute in Dakar, which stops serving their magical burgers at 19h00. SO not ok when it’s 19h30 and all you wanted was a burger) (yes, I know it’s ill-advised to eat ground meat in developing countries… but I as already pointed out, these burgers were in France, so it’s ok)

I could go on, but you get the idea. The moral of the story: neither Hawa nor I got to do what we most wanted to do (besides see K, of course) (visit friends in Ziguinchor/see waterfalls, respectively), but we still had an amazing trip.

4. Lots of things in Senegal do work (at least sometimes)! Things in Senegal that I loved (besides K, duh):

-Bissap. So good. Especially frozen. Or perhaps with gin or vodka. So I’m told.
-Peace Corps parties. Good company + good food + good music = best party in a loooong time.
-Warthog sandwiches, especially when served poolside at the Relais in K’gou
-Bean sandwiches for breakfast. Mmmmmm I want one. With mayo and barbeque sauce.
-Maafe. Rice + peanut sauce (+/- mystery meat chunks). So satisfying.
-M’s cooking. He can come visit me anytime he wants. And by visit I mean bring K with him and make us food.
-Can you tell I’m hungry right now? Perhaps I should have a snack before I continue…
-K’s village is so, so gorgeous. She must have one of the best sites in the country. Definitely worth the 50 km trek, broken bikes and all. (Although you couldn’t pay me to go on that road in a car… biking is so much more pleasant, provided you stay hydrated and have a working bike.)
-K’s family, especially her brothers. She couldn’t have been paired with a better group of people.
-Outdoor showers/bucket baths. So refreshing.
-Food in Dakar. SO GOOD. K knows alllll the good places to eat. Especially…
-N’ICE CREAM. This magical place of confections deserves its own line. I highly recommend the Obama Cookies, or a Passion Fruit and Vanilla milkshake.
-The Senegalese. They truly are some of the most friendly and hospitable folks you’ll ever come across. They love to laugh. Especially at the crazy toubabs. They are also incredibly blunt, which is mostly refreshing (“Hawa is better. She said thank you.” Fair enough.). The one exception is when Senegalese men try to seduce/marry you. Not so smooth.
-Pulaar! It’s far superior to Wolof. And has so many great words and phrases that I am trying to export to the US/UK. Including:
a. Attention. (Watch out. For that thing that already happened. But still, watch out.) I still say this all the time. No one has called me out on it yet, but I have gotten a few curious looks. Or maybe I’ve always muttered to myself so no one thinks anything of it…
b. Atcha! (Shoo! Go away! Scram! Skedaddle!) So much better than any sort of English equivalent, and remarkably effective with Senegalese livestock. Unfortunately, I doubt American or British animals will be quite so responsive. Perhaps it’s worth using with sketchy guys in bars/clubs, however…
c. Alhamdullilahi (Praise Allah). This is just a great word. I don’t use it nearly often enough. You should use it too.

5. Are you really still reading? I’m impressed.

6. K is still the K we all know and love. She has adapted to her new environment, and it’s strange (though pleasantly so) to see her eat meat, but she is still the generous, caring, sincere, fun-loving person we all adore. Now go donate money to her mosquito net campaign and send her care packages.

Guest Blog from Heather/ Hawa

After visiting Kate in Senegal this July, she asked that I write a "visitor's post" to update her recently neglected blog. I'll start by telling you all that our dear friend Kate/Katie/Kay/Hadiatou has become Senegalese. She speaks Pulaar practically fluently and has mastered the art of haggling for reduced prices. She can carry heavy objects on her head and she dances the Pulaar dance with expertise. (we taught her Senegalese mother the "American dances" of the macarana and the chicken dance, haha). She is the most tan she has ever been in her life, and she looks healthy and beautiful! (Kate you better post these compliments and not edit them out- your family and friends will want to know the things you are too modest to say!) She is sooooo tough, riding that 50K bikeride to and from her village as if it were a piece of cake (or Obama Cookie icecream at N'Ice Cream in Dakar, mmm). And let me tell you from experience, that bike ride was the hardest thing I have ever and will ever do in my LIFE!!! Hilly, puddly, muddy, rocky, unpredictable bikes, ahhhh! (Thank Allah that Kate rode behind me all 8 hours of torture and sang Disney and Sound of Music songs to me to keep me going and back on the bike after each fall!!) But no worries about Kate who is now an extreme biker. She does the ride in 2-3 hours. Kate is still the same Kate I have known since 2nd grade though, just with a tough Senegalese outlook. And she has become slightly more responsible which I was happy to see (double-thinking before jumping out of the tree she just climbed because she realizes it is very likely she could sprain an ankle...can you imagine the carefree American Kate reflecting like that?!) And she LOVES meat of any form, including things like shrimp eyeballs that you just aren't supposed to eat. So strange. She says she will return to being vegetarian in the states after she crosses off all of the "meats to eat" on her list, but I wonder. I can't forget to mention that MaryBeth and I were both very impressed with Kate's boyfriend Matt- his dancing, tarzan vine-swinging, and cooking skills were all quite amazing. What else to say? The trip to Senegal was incredible to see Kate, the life she is living, and the beauty of the Kedougou/Pellel Kendessa area and the people there. Advice for future visitors: be flexible and prepared for anything; be ready to sweat and smell like never before; only do the 50K bikeride if you are insane or very athletic and daring; bring Kate lots of food (the corn mush in her village was pretty sad); be prepared to be eaten by mosquitos despite wearing repellent; bring gifts for her village family (they loved the photo album of pictures from Kate's blog that we gave them!); a neckpillow for the looooong car rides across Senegal would be a good idea; bring a flashlight/headlamp and tissue packets; try to pack light in a backpack, learn basic Pulaar (A Jaraama = hi, thank you, and bye!, Jam tuŋ = Peace Only, and Mi hari is I'm full of corn mush!; and pick a Senegalese name (the Senegalese will probably laugh at your American name and not be able to say it). I hope you have a wonderful trip if you are visiting Kate!!
~Heather Soldano, aka Hawa Souaré

Tuck in Your Bed Nets

With my dear Heather and MB's visit and a health summit soon after, I didn't have time to help too much with net distribution this year. This is unfortunate because we've never tried to cover such a large section (the entire arrondissement of Saraya). It was quite the cluster----- and we are still 7,500 nets short! This is because population estimates were way off, and there are loads of villages not recognized in any way by the government. But we want to stop malaria there too! Please help us raise enough money to finish reaching our goal for the year by donating at this site: http://www.againstmalaria.com/Fundraiser.aspx?FundRaiserID=5444 . Remember, the other PCVs and I are literally going to recieve and distribute these nets with our own hands. We have a thorough system of checking the population numbers and visiting homes if we think the numbers are wrong. As legitimate as I think anti-free-net arguments are, I can see for myself that it works here. We live in these villages ourselves and we see the nets being used correctly. Every villager knows malaria is the number-one killer, so they're not all that tempted to sell their nets off (I'm sure it happens, but not at a large rate). When more people sleep under nets, the spread of malaria decreases-- less humans catch it from mosquitoes, and less mosquitoes catch it from humans. This includes long lost PCVs living over here too...

OK, moving on to distribution highlights:
-took a carved-out canoe to Mali
-a 1-armed man did a 1-2 minute song and dance of thanks
-saw at least 2 children playing with skinned dead parakeets as if they were barbie dolls
-taught "Frere Jacques" and "We Will Rock You" to a classroom of kids to distract them from the cluster---- of distribution in the next room. Actually we WERE giving them causeries on everything health, but then the rain pounded the tin roof so that you couldn't hear anything that wasn't a loud song.
-a dr. licked my ear. Uninvited (need I say?)
-a bat entered Sheila's mosquito net. She casually brushed it away softly saying, "Huh.. bat..." That would NOT have been my reaction. This bat was special though and kept dive-bombing and making me duck for cover.
-Not so much biking this year. Can I get an Alhumdulilai? Instead we had a lot more rides from ambulences and such. One of the photos above is from when Sheila and I hitched a ride back to the Gou in an ambulence (yes, that's the bike on the stretcher.) I must say that these rides are most definitely not what you're thinking, even with the ambulences. More like a mechanical bull with walls. For many hours. At several points getting stuck in mud/rivers/hills/giant craters, or smacking my head against the window, I had a bit of a morbid giggle to myself. "Is this how I'll die?"

On that note:

The NetLife blog site for this project: http://netlife2009.blogspot.com/

PLEASE DONATE!

http://www.againstmalaria.com/Fundraiser.aspx?FundRaiserID=5444

Peace Battle Wounds

My leg and Jordan's neck crater. More to come, I'm sure

I went to Europe and All I Got Was This Double Chin

Milan: Monet, Samurai exhibit, rejection of the 3-meal system in favor of one in which I at no time have free space in my stomach, best pizza of my life, even the graffitti impresses me to the point where I thought the subways's graffitti might have been commissioned. I'm still not entirely convinced it wasn't.

Venice: My brothers and I used to call our bath-tub "Venice." It has always seemed to me an unreal, magical place. Going there didn't change that.

"Venice defies description. Many have tried, from Goethe to Brodsky, but it has to be seen; felt, and wandered through to be believed, and even then you may have trouble thinkging it real. Yet no theme-park creater could ever have come up with this result of 1400 years of extraordinairy history." (Lonely Planet)

Still, there's a whimsical-seeming system at work, like the next city or planet over is the Jetsons-themed one. On the other hand, its age and history is so evident that it's more like it's the rest of the world that's putting on a show. However you want to think of Venice, it's incredible. On 117 islands, with 150 canals, and 410 bridges. You must commute by boat. You must! Just as you must face the beauty and you must feel the sunlit watery winds through your shampooed hairs. I'd recommend going as a couple, if you have the choice. We saw a few Goths and M remarked it must be hard to find something to be angry about in this magical city where people come from all over the world to be in love. I say I'd probably feel dark myself if I were 16, single, and pimply and I couldn't walk two steps out my front door without running into tonsil-hockey in the streets. The whole romance thing gets exploited too; we had countless photos taken of us during our gondola ride. I wanted to throw my email address at the photogaphers and at least get something out of it. So if you come across any on a random web-album, send 'em to me!

Piazza San Marco: besides its stunning magnificence (sometimes I find it difficult to take in the full picture of things like this. Or, like grocery stores, where I might spend 10 min staring between 2 cereal boxes instead of facing the bountiful rest), has a lot of pigeons. Something I didn't get to do was throw breadcrumbs at a snobby-looking lady and enjoy the aftermath. So if any of you go, that's a cheap activity to consider. Personally, I could not part with any crumbs.

Basilica di San Marco: U-B-E-L-I-E-V-A-B-L-E. You can't even look at the floors of advanced geometric marble splendor because it's so hard to tear your eyes from the golden, colorful, meticulous, dazzzling mosaics all around and above, dating back from the 1060's. Neither of us could refrain from saying things like, "My villagers can't even dig a well!" But it was also somehow nice to think of them and their thatched rooves among mango trees, and to remember that that exists as well as this glittering palace, as well as all the things in between. It's nice to witness the spectrum and remember to be amazed at the variety of the people and places of the planet. (I've had a lot of cheese on this vacation; I guess it's coming out here).

...Guggenheim museum, churches, shops, markets, music, and every other building is a landmark... And getting lost on purpose was the best part:

"A city for meanderers, Venice rewards every minute devoted to penetrating its cat's cradle of intertwined lanes." (L. P.)


Rome: We started out a bit rough with a hotel scam (OK, this 19 year old will now drive you to your room. OK, you can get out here, it's that unmarked door covered in graffiti...) But Rome bounced back as it will enchant anyone who's ever enjoyed two words of history.

Colloseum, Palatine, Forums: awesome, gorgeous, go. We were overwhelmed by all the english-speaking tourists so we played a game in which they overheard us describing false attractions. "So the trapeze show starts at 1:00, right..." "I can't beleive they dressed up that monkey like that. It's kind of cruel. But Very impressive how well he's learned to handle that sword!"

Vatican: even more english speakers, mostly wanting us to pay for their tours. So we spent the first 2-3 hours speaking only Pulaar. We pondered how often-- if ever-- this happened at the Vatican. Sistene chapel: Jeez! I was intimidated by my senior thesis in art! Un-freaking-believable. Not overrated. No wonder Michelangelo is my favorite ninja turtle. Don't ignore the paintings everyone quickly walks by on the way to the chapel either, or you'll miss some Dali's, chagal's; and other gems. the other stuff didn't move me too much.

Gladiator School: how amazing that this exists. I really really wanted to meet the passionate gladiator students and teachers, but unfortunately, once we finally found the place, it was empty. And creepy. Voices that didn't answer, wind opening doors, a dog the size of a bear... "Let's split up!" I suggested. You know how I like my horror flicks.

Indian restaurant: this gave me an odd language overload. I was trying to remember my few words of Hindi while hearing Italian, speaking english to M, and still most inclined to speak to other people in French, Pulaar, or even wolof. M got fuzzy feelings of global friendship especially when japanese tourists came in. We decided everyone should eat everyone else's food to stop war. I mean, who wouls ever want to bomb India after eating a delicious samosa (the question mark on this keyboard doesn't work) Bring on the middle-eastern cuisine. (But forgive my village for having awful food).

Bookstore: Rome had the biggest one I saw, with 4 aisles of english books. Bliss! I literally took my pulse and asked M if he thought I had a fever. It was thrilling. I've since treated myself a few times and can now do so at a regular breathing rate.

French Fries: You know how when you go on vacation, for example, to Europe, you have to bypass things like hamburgers that you can get at home (question mark) That's why a Peace Corps vacation is dangerous. There falls nothing in this bypass-category except corn mush. I have yet to see corn-mush on a menu. Therefore, I am rendered unable to bypass anything. I went to Italy and all I got was this double chin. And I love it!

Catacombs, ruins, pasta, paninis, churches, Trevi...

Madrid: hyssen, Placa Mayor, Reina Sophia, oldest restaurant in the world (certified by Guiness Records), Sol, Movies with big buckets of popcorn, La Latina, tapas...
To my high school sweethearts: Tessa is doing fabulously in her glamorous Spanish life. She speaks in a rapid perfect spanish that I sometimes couldn't believe was coming out of her mouth, even if I was staring at her. She knows the coolest restaurants (one is a japanese buffet with a CONVEYER BELT. It went in both directions so we gave up pretending to pay any attention to each other and just said things like, "Spring rolls coming up.. three left.. two.. shoot! Reach over NO, get it before these people, go, go!" This place would never be able to stay in business if I lived in Madrid. Lucky for them, Madrid likes size zeros more than complete ultimate fulfillment. There was a particularly hilarious incident here involving essa's arm in sauce over the belt and me crying from laughing so hard.. but I think you had to be there...) Back to Tess: She teaches english to adults and some adorable kids. I spoke to the latter about monekys and snakes and living here. I may have accidentally called them selfish too, "Yes, we have a school, but no tile floors like this, or decorations, or lights, or books, or... any of this... Anyway, the monkeys..." Tessa has a lovely apartment with a cushy couch, and many other wonderful things I fully enjoyed (fridge, microwave, washing machine, TV...) She dresses fashionably and is basically married to Felipe (I still love that name), who is the male version of Tessa. They make lists of travel destinations like other people make grocery lists. But don't go thinking she takes it for granted. She was very sensative to the things overwhelming me and sometimes quoted bits of THIS BLOG to me. I was touched to know she thought of my experience while living it up in hers.

It was very hard to leave. Tessa clearly needs me as a roommate. Thus, I am tragically torn between the debts of friendship and the debts to society. Now I'm in Kédougou sweating on my own sweat with a throbbing earache. Clearly, I made the wrong choice. Tessa! Bacon! Cheese! Come back to me!

lifescapes from a train (venice---rome)

white sheets drying
perfectly spaced like
well brushed teeth
next to polka dotted dresses
I could wear
the line ends
the little farmhouse fades---
roof top gardens grow
like house hair-- blossoms
braided through tomatoes, basil,
parts of a recipe
I could find---
vineyards in whose
perfectly measured
rows, I'd fit, holding
my lover's hand, even,
and the grapes that would
stain my fingers
I can almost taste---
that man with the mo-ped
looks like a friend
he'd give me rides to the
post office, just
to have my hands
on his waist---
the playground where
a little boy with
my eyes could
step on the sky
seated in swings before
my stretched--out
hands---
the mountain
that reaches the
high clouds, tall
enough to watch over
it all, but it
could fit snugly
in my window---
----------------
if this-- were
my stop---
-

Pizza Corps in Milan

Peace Corps volunteers whould not be allowed to go to fashion capitals like Milan without some sort of makeover intervention in between. There's a reality show idea: fix up the young sloppy PCVs (skinny enough to be on television) so they don't embarass themselves. I volunteer myself. But no, I have my flipflops only and they so far appear to be the only flipflops in country. My best skirt is held together with a safety pin. Don't get me started on M.
No matter, we're used to being stared at and are still living the high life! We might be able to get by without drawing attention to ourselves if we didn't react bizarrely and oooh and ahhh and mundane things. But for 2.5 years, M has only been on a snowy Vienna vacation and in 1 year, I hadn't left Africa. So a few things provoked more impressed reactions from us than they would normal people. These things include but are in no way limited to: grass, flowers, real roads, nice cars, tall buildings, other peoples' clothes, hot water, chairs, airplane food, vending machines, airports, public bathrooms, the perceived cleanliness of rats (do they shampoo them here?), driving ability, prevalence of english signs and speakers, lack of sweat... Then there are things that are actually Awesome, that no one should take for granted: good coffee, cheese, gelato, pizza, chocolate, Monet, the duomo, amazing architecture everywhere, a happy hour in which you get one drink and an all-you-can-eat buffet of deliciousness, and what might be my favorite thing: bookstores!

Coming from Senegal has completely colored the way in which we take in Italy. Sometimes it's silly-- last night I saw a dog out of the corner of my eyes and burst out laughing when I realized I'd assumed it was a warthog. We made kissy noises at the annoying street peddlers, but since many came from Senegal (are we surprised?), they recognized it as a "no" sound. Neither of us has more than 10 words in Italian and are prone to answering in Pulaar or french even though most people speak english. Whenever I wanted to say yes, I'd always say, "Eyo. Oui! I mean SI!" It is nice and strange to be able to hold hands in public. Shorts SHOCK us. I literally started blushing last night when I passed a girl who seemed to be going out in her underwear. I have become a nun.

Speaking of nuns, the cathedral in the duomo made us open-mouth gape for the entire duration of our visit. At first we though of how our villagers would fall over themselves if they ever saw this. We felt depressed on their behalf, thinking about where they are in 2009, while the Italians made these high ornate walls and stained glass glory by the early 1300's, also without electricity or modern technology.

But as I watched the masses file in, light candles, and rub brass emblems, I realized how much I respect villagers' piety. It's easy to be religious in the grand gorgeous cathedral with colored light beaming from the windows, ceilings and carvings and pillars breathtakingly grandiose. The monument of thousands of years of thousands of people's adament belief loom like tactile proof. You don't feel alone and the miraculousness of the structure makes it easy to believe in other miracles.

In my village, kids study faded wooden prayer tablets by the light of a bonfire. They put mats down in the sand and press their foreheads to the dirt. Cows and chickens and babies scream all around in the buzzing heat. They shut it out and one man sings the prayer. Mat and dirt and goats and sun: these are the patrons of their church. They stand and kneel and press their heads to the gorund. This is faith.

(vacation to be continued...)

Tessa, Nachos, and Kittens (three of my favorite things/ beings)

4/17
Tessa's visit was lovely! I hope she agrees. We had a bit of a tough time trying to see "real" Senegal in a week-- without too much discomfort. She could've handled more, but I became oddly nervous that she'd hate Senegal. Senegal has sort of become my embarassing crazy uncle (which I don't really have!) who is really a lovely person once you get to know him.

She understood, of course. Everyone had been making her nervous with Africa horror strories anyway. So we stuck around Dakar and Toubab Diallaw and you can ask her yourself if she felt any horror! (Tess, help me out here. The lizard and cockroach don't count!) We had lots of delicious food, heard some live music, became quickly renowned pastry shop patrons, enjoyed the beach, played lots of charades... we did things I didn't know were possible in Senegal, like ORDER PIZZA in an air-conditioned hotel room with an english movie channel and a mini fridge! WHAT?! I couldn't recognize my awesome life. Even when I opened the door to the pastry/ pizza delivery guy who laughed to see that it was US again.

We really felt like we were living it up. Tessa would convert the price tags out loud to euros because it all seemed so cheap to her. Michele and I, however, moaned with guilt about spendng so much. "We're on vacation!" we yelled to perplexed Tess. Michele and I also forced ourselves to submerge in the freezing water, crazily screaming, "Remember how hot it is in Kedougou!" I think those were the only painful parts of the trip, though.

Highlights include accepting an invitation to ataaya on Goree Island. This surprised Tessa as well as the inviters who are used to tourists ignoring them. But I had to show her the senegalese hospitality that defines the country! It's hard to catch in Dakar, with the ripping off and begging hands thrust in your face. But away from that, we happily sat on a mat as our hosts happily prepared the tea. They cooked and poured it back and forth, the daily dance of the ataaya you can see across the country. One had been to Spain so could shoot the Spanish with Tess, and the rest were appropriately pumped about my Pulaar. I asked a guy to give her a Senegalese name and he was visibly honored. He took the task seriously, and after a few minutes of pondering, setted on "Salimatou." Then he played a song from his phone about loving Salimatou. Now that's crazy uncle Senegal.

We also took a pirogue across Lac Rose. It really was pink, and warm as bathwater. We had a good giggle floating in it then getting doused with a bucket of water once we emerged. We almost joined a dance class, but it was too pricey. Personally, I was also having falshbacks of our botched attempt to join a retired broadway dance class a few years back (think Lucille Ball and ballet). So instead we watched and immitated in secret. Better for us all!

----------------------
I'm putting nachos on this blog as an honor to Tessa. Also, because we talked about them on her trip, thus intensifying my already dangerous year-long yearning for them. This inspired the following events. Also, Thomas getting cheese in a carepackage (HINT!). That is the bigger half of the nacho battle right there. Which says something as the rest of the battle involved:
-getting corn (OK, this is not at all in the viscinity of hard)
-pounding it.. haha this is how much I love nachos, people! Luckily I was spared most of the pounding once someone kindly reminded me they have machines for this in Kedougou.
-mix cornmeal with flour, baknig powder, salt, water, and oil
-make a dough
-roll the dough on the table with an empty wine bottle (FYI this is because we don't have a rolling pin; not because I'm weird)
-next you're supposed to bake them in the oven, but our oven didn't really work too well. So we fried them!
-procure avocado, tomato, hot pepper, onion, and garlic from the market, and chicken from someone else's package.
-Love life.

It all took about 5 hours. Oh how I miss 2 minute microwaved nachos! But these were INCREDIBLE. OK, the chips were not that awesome, but after a year of dreaming, these had to be the best nachos I've ever had or will have in my life. I took photos. It was a huge platter-- I licked it clean.

----------------------
Kittens:

We got 'em! They're the first I've seen in the village. My dad bought them to kill mice. I'm happy because they won't be my responsibility (especially after I leave. i think it's irresponsible to adopt only to abandon), I loathe mice, and they're so cute! The cuter one will be my new best friend. He comes to visit me every morning to mooch off my oatmeal-and-honey breakfast. All it has to eat is the same corn mush the rest of us eat, if you're wondering why he likes oatmeal. Wolof for "cat" is "mous mous" so I named him "mooch mooch." Today Mooch ate a scorpion carcus off my bedroom floor. My young mom/ older sister killed it (scorpion, not kitten) while I was showing her how to make french fries from the floor.

These are a few of my favorite things....