(26 May 13)
There we were. The three of us. Maddi carrying a large basin/pan on his head full of various seeds drenched in water, Baay Malick (father Malick) swinging the heavy 12L blue bucket full of cashew seeds soaking in water. And me, struggling to keep back rather than keep up, conscientiously slowing my pace to keep in line. Everyone walks at a very leisurely gait here. Shouldering my black medal shovel, probably the nicest in the village, and proudly donning my Fula farming hat which can easily be mistaken for some Asian rice field wear. As we walked, that slow gait, I found myself gaining ahead of them from time to time and made continuous effort to pull back, if not just for the effect of the scene. I wished I could have split in two to run ahead and snap a picture or film. Or wished you could just see us. It was one of those moments where you envision your life to be so important that you can see the camera crew out front filming the visually delectable scene for a movie about bad ass volunteers making it work in West Africa. I found it amusing that my excitement about the whole deal burst into a mental blockbuster. But there we were, walking out into the middle of the bush towards Seidou's garden. His scraggly fence made of dry grass, branches, and weeds. Seeds and poly pots and shovel in our hands. Handfulls of villagers coming to meet us to help with THEIR tree nursery. TREES! They want trees! Not only do they want them but we spent that entire afternoon (after five for the sake of the heat) until nearly dusk planting I don't even know how many trees- until the poly pots ran out!
It wasn't the whole village working but it was just enough. Some ten women and five men. Out there in the corner of this dry and wilted garden. Filling poly pots, hauling water from over two hundred paces away, digging the trench for the trees, soaking the dirt, and patiently attempting to understand my crazy and grammatically embarrassing Wollof skills, as I tried to understand the perfection of their native tongue coming so fast and easy, without a second thought. Just working and jabbering. Mostly about the little things, and about Rohe (me), etc. I didn't even care. I was ecstatic! If I wasn't so tired and possibly dehydrated and more at ease, I'm sure I would have cried fat tears of pure joy. Here I am giving thanks after it's all finished and they tell me I'm the one helping them, not the other way around. Well, I suppose, but if they only knew how much I love trees! And I'm sure they have some idea. However, they probably don't know that hours before I stood over the pans of soaking seeds (soaking them just helps speed up germination, and shows you if you have bad seeds by the ones that float to the top) playing with them in the water with a feeling that can only be appropriate for describing the love a mother feels towards her child. So, there's that.
We're coming up here, as they say. Slowly but surely. Today was one of those rare busy 'peace corps' days. One of those days you picture when you're stateside preparing for departure imagining what it'll be like. You don't imagine the majority of what your days actually are like, trying to simply fill time.
The morning began early for me (before nine) with a mango jam and alternative fuel stove demonstration in partnership with a local NGO, AVISU in the next town over. Then my friend and site mate came through helping give polio injections with the health clinic also in the town over. It's always exciting to see a fellow PC in village! Then the tree nursery. When even just one of those events would have made a day satisfying! And tomorrow morning they won't even let me rest- I'm off helping the women scope out potential sites for a garden, and a man, Tafa, in the village over for cashew trees! My village, where have I been all of this time? But I'm here now. If you really want it all, let's do it all.
I'm tired. Slightly dehydrated. Slightly underfed, today, given the energy expense. But am happy. What a day. Wish you were here.
There we were. The three of us. Maddi carrying a large basin/pan on his head full of various seeds drenched in water, Baay Malick (father Malick) swinging the heavy 12L blue bucket full of cashew seeds soaking in water. And me, struggling to keep back rather than keep up, conscientiously slowing my pace to keep in line. Everyone walks at a very leisurely gait here. Shouldering my black medal shovel, probably the nicest in the village, and proudly donning my Fula farming hat which can easily be mistaken for some Asian rice field wear. As we walked, that slow gait, I found myself gaining ahead of them from time to time and made continuous effort to pull back, if not just for the effect of the scene. I wished I could have split in two to run ahead and snap a picture or film. Or wished you could just see us. It was one of those moments where you envision your life to be so important that you can see the camera crew out front filming the visually delectable scene for a movie about bad ass volunteers making it work in West Africa. I found it amusing that my excitement about the whole deal burst into a mental blockbuster. But there we were, walking out into the middle of the bush towards Seidou's garden. His scraggly fence made of dry grass, branches, and weeds. Seeds and poly pots and shovel in our hands. Handfulls of villagers coming to meet us to help with THEIR tree nursery. TREES! They want trees! Not only do they want them but we spent that entire afternoon (after five for the sake of the heat) until nearly dusk planting I don't even know how many trees- until the poly pots ran out!
It wasn't the whole village working but it was just enough. Some ten women and five men. Out there in the corner of this dry and wilted garden. Filling poly pots, hauling water from over two hundred paces away, digging the trench for the trees, soaking the dirt, and patiently attempting to understand my crazy and grammatically embarrassing Wollof skills, as I tried to understand the perfection of their native tongue coming so fast and easy, without a second thought. Just working and jabbering. Mostly about the little things, and about Rohe (me), etc. I didn't even care. I was ecstatic! If I wasn't so tired and possibly dehydrated and more at ease, I'm sure I would have cried fat tears of pure joy. Here I am giving thanks after it's all finished and they tell me I'm the one helping them, not the other way around. Well, I suppose, but if they only knew how much I love trees! And I'm sure they have some idea. However, they probably don't know that hours before I stood over the pans of soaking seeds (soaking them just helps speed up germination, and shows you if you have bad seeds by the ones that float to the top) playing with them in the water with a feeling that can only be appropriate for describing the love a mother feels towards her child. So, there's that.
We're coming up here, as they say. Slowly but surely. Today was one of those rare busy 'peace corps' days. One of those days you picture when you're stateside preparing for departure imagining what it'll be like. You don't imagine the majority of what your days actually are like, trying to simply fill time.
The morning began early for me (before nine) with a mango jam and alternative fuel stove demonstration in partnership with a local NGO, AVISU in the next town over. Then my friend and site mate came through helping give polio injections with the health clinic also in the town over. It's always exciting to see a fellow PC in village! Then the tree nursery. When even just one of those events would have made a day satisfying! And tomorrow morning they won't even let me rest- I'm off helping the women scope out potential sites for a garden, and a man, Tafa, in the village over for cashew trees! My village, where have I been all of this time? But I'm here now. If you really want it all, let's do it all.
I'm tired. Slightly dehydrated. Slightly underfed, today, given the energy expense. But am happy. What a day. Wish you were here.
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ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing your very good, very busy day.
ReplyDelete