Transition: Part Deux

So my new family seems nice. Five minutes after I met them, I threw up in their front yard, and they were totally cool about it. At least, they didn't refuse to take me in for fear of contamination, or anything.

I started out my time up here in the Fouta (the North) on an interesting note. I arrived in the region of Matam at nine o clock in the morning (after leaving the town of Ndioum at six), spent three hours opening a bank account in Matam, ate lunch at the hotel in Ourossogui, went shopping for a few life essentials such as buckets (in which to shower and store water), drank a Fanta, and then threw up on my friend Kris' new sheets, bucket, and I regret to say, on him. Not the most auspicious beginning, I grant you. On the other hand, Kris and I have a new and special bond. I don't think you can throw up on someone and not be their friend forever thereafter.

I probably threw up about seven times that night, but in the morning I felt a lot better. However, I still wasn't feeling exactly top notch, so I elected to skip the morning schedule of greeting all the regional officials, and slept for about six hours instead. After that, I felt ready to brave the task of loading up all my stuff into the Peace Corps car and going to my site. That was when I threw up the eighth time, right after meeting all of the approximately thirty people that are a fairly ubiquitous presence in my household (they may or may not all live there, I haven't quite figured that out yet).

In case any of you were wondering, it is indeed quite hot up here in the Sahara, so it's customary to take a petite sieste after lunch, and I was pretty wiped out my first couple of days what from all that puking on friends and family property. So thus it was that my first full day at my post was punctuated by three noisy sheep invading my room and waking me up from a nap. My second day, a lizard fell on me while I was peeing. I haven't yet decided whether I am afraid of the lizards or if I'm starting to think they're cute. On the other hand, I am definitely starting to develop a hatred of sheep.

Everyone in the Peace Corps talks about how the first few months are terribly boring, as you're not really supposed to work, but rather focus on learning the language. I don't know what they're talking about. I've been busy ever since I got here. Thus far, I have gone to the health post to speak to the doctor there about how the Senegalese health system works and to watch vaccinations; gone to the equivalent of a town council meeting and gave a speech about myself in Pulaar; I went with my brother to work one day (under a shade structure in the town square) and learned all about how the water tower and taps work (every family that has a robinet pays each month per cubic meter of water consumed. The taps only work at night, and are slightly separate from the household, so the women spend most of the evening carrying buckets of water on their heads from the tap to the house to store for the next day. In small villages, carrying water is more of a morning chore, because it has to be pulled from wells, which generally no one wants to do once it gets too hot); and the other day I went running and stopped by the college (junior high), and greeted the principal, who told me he wanted me to help him with an English club there. All this in between working to learn Pulaar (What is that called? And that? What did you say?) and struggling to learn the names of everyone in my family (my dad has three wives and twenty children, so this is not an inconsiderable task, especially when you throw in the neighbors and cousins and aunts and friends that are at the house all the time).

Anyway, so far I love it, and I seem to have made a full recovery from my illness (I'm eating again!), so everything is, you know, jam tan (Peace only).