The taming of the shrew

After a rocky start and fleeing from the village in tears, I made my way back for the second time to give it another shot. Sunday, my nearest neighbor and I met up in the road town for a meeting with an NGO worker, before making our way back to Pakane for a lunch of fish balls, potatoes and rice. DELICIOUS! And no pervs, fish balls are not what you're thinking they are. A nice blend of peanuts, msg and mashed up fish (and fish bones) molded to form a ball the shape of Cumba's hand. Yum!

True to form, Ari (neighbor) and I retreated to my room to speak english and have some "America" time. Sitting in the doorway to my backyard, I just happen to look down at my feet and see a mouse, wait no, a shrew crawling around under my legs. Insert girly scream here. The shrew retreats to the corner behind my trunk. Granted, I never EVER clean behind or under this trunk because I'm terrified of it. There are always scorpions who run around my room and stab my feet. Jerks. So, of all the places for there to be critters, they will be there. The nasty little thing continues to taunt us for a few minutes, poking its head out of random places, running out at my feet, typical creepy rodent behavior. And excuse me, but aren't these things supposed to be nocturnal? Isn't it the same little guy who kept me up in my hut for months on end? If you're going to live in my hut, don't come out during the day (or do if you know the rest of this story) and keep quiet. We can live harmoniously if you follow these two simple rules. Alas, they are rodents and their brains are very tiny and thus, cannot reason or be considerate. DAMN!

Like any normal girl, Ari and I are laughing at the ridiculousness of this situation and screaming anytime the shrew pokes its head out to say hello. Fatimata and Cumba, one of the women in my compound and my host mom, intrigued by the crazy noises coming from my hut, poke their heads in to see whats going on. I tell them and they ask if I'm afraid of it. My answer, a very enthusiastic YES, sends them into fits of laughter, even more so when the see the thing. Thanks guys, make fun of me even more. Needless to say, the tell me to sweep the corner of death and leave my hut.

Out of nowhere, it shrieks, causing even my little brown widow spider friend to jump off the wall at us, causing even more screaming. ENOUGH! We decide, there's no getting around it. It must die. End of story. So, I kick the trunk as far against the wall as it will go.... and Nothing. Not even a peep. And more so, no shrew. Confusion sets in. But never fear, Sira Ba has a machete! Now, what I expected to do, if I actually killed it is beyond me. I would be scarred for life (which I am anyway, but we'll get to that). Very slowly and ever so carefully as not to alert the rodent, I put the machete half way down behind the trunk. Then, a quick plunge of the sword and an extremely loud shriek from the shrew sends us into fits of girlish screaming yet again.

Fatimata, comes running into the room, probably afraid we stabbed ourselves with the machete. I tell her in a shaky voice, "mi sikki o mayat!" In other words "I think he died!" She goes to the trunk and looks, turns around and informs that no, Sira Ba, you didn't kill the shrew. Sorry. DAMN!!!! However, as soon as she moved my trunk, the shrew takes off under my bed and around the perimeter of my hut. The girly screaming continues from Ari and myself, as does the laughing from what is now about 10 villagers in my front yard who decided that the afternoons activity would be "toubab watching." Finally, it runs behind the other trunk on the not scary side of my hut, where I trap it. She instructs me to keep it trapped there until she returns. Insert look of disbelief here. You want me to do what!

She comes back, with Cumba and a stick. Cumba takes my machete from me. Ok Sira, move your hammock (that happens to be blocking one of its exits) just a tiny tiny bit. I do. Down goes the stick, Fatimata spears the shrew! Intense. Shrew screams ensue, as do ours. A good three minutes of shrew screams later, Cumba steps in. After trying to stab it to no avail, down comes the machete. One hard chop, right on the top of the head. Blood flies, shrieking ceases, I am scarred for life. At least the rodent is deceased. Thanks ladies, I love them!

I came, I saw, I ate

Alas, the prodigal daughter returned to America. Unfortunately, for those of you who didn't get a chance to pop over and visit, I am back in Senegal. However, being home was absolutely amazing despite my newly discovered oddities and socially unacceptable behavior. Upon going to Trader Joes with my mom, I managed to take pictures of the produce, hold a really awkward conversation regarding my food choices in Senegal and managed to do a double take every time I heard someone speaking english. News flash Sarah: everyone speaks english. But, in response to the awkward conversation with my mom, I really didn't think my food choices were so terrible until I got "the look" from her. Granted, I guess you could say that meat standards in Senegal and America are not quite equal. To be clear, Senegal has no meat standards. While in Trader Joes, lurking around the meat section and admiring how pretty it was (sounds strange, I know), I turned to my mom and asked:

Me- "So, you know how sometimes, the meat has that green stuff on the outside?"
Mom- (insert horrified look here) "No Sarah"
Me - "No, sometimes there is that green--"
Mom- "No. I dont." (another horrified look)

Then, she walked away from me. God help me, I actually thought that was normal! Despite a few minor set backs, like picking my nose in public, saying Alhumdoullilah in situations where no one else would understand, shooting dirty looks to people who hand me something with their left hand and eating salad with my hands, I managed to successfully convince people that I was a normal American girl. Alhumdoullilah (crap there I go again).

After a few days at home, I made the long trip down to Kentucky to stay with some friends. Hannah came in the second night, and like a true friend, embraced my awkwardness and went face first into a watermelon right along side of me. Apparently that is not a normal thing to do either. Kim also flew in the next morning, so it was off to the airport for bloody mary's and then some shopping with my girls. Since there were a few other friends coming in (Andrew and Tara I love you guys), we opted for a hotel rather than staying with friends again. Naturally, when the receptionist asked if we wanted two beds, we said yes. But.... since Louisville is stuck in 1950, we were surprised to walk in and find that our "2 beds" were actually 2 TWIN beds. We had 5 people. Anyone up for snuggling? Really louisville? Really?

But after a fun weekend, it was time to go back up to Chicago and freeze my butt off. Christmas was great, I got what every girl dreams of: a snuggie. What could be better you ask? Why a book light of course, thank god it came with one!

I have to say that the best part of my trip home was how clean everything is! Myself included, I didn't realize just how dirty living in a mud hut actually is until, well, I was not living in a mud hut. The first night, I went to bed and my mom tripped over a box in the hallway. She peeked her head in to make sure that she didn't wake me up and said I was smiling into my pillow mid- REM cycle.... If that doesn't tell you Americans have it lucky, I have no idea what is. You can sleep in beds!!!!! real beds!!! Mine in the village right now probably has a bush rat living in it. No kidding. Before I left, a giant creature (my guess being mutant rat) actually ate a hole through my water filter. That is some seriously hard, thick plastic people! Freakin mutant rat!!! I kept hearing it in the middle of the night and shining my flash light over to see it and it would jump up to the roof. Actually, it probably could have stepped up to the roof from my desk it was so huge. So yea, to answer your question, I'm looking forward to going back..... Bring it on parasites, looks like ill be drinking well water.

Any way, actually getting onto the plane was a challenge. I was dragged kicking and screaming onto the plane, Goose Island Honkers Ale in hand and refusing to step off the plane in Dakar until they put a starbucks somewhere. Ok so maybe thats an exaggeration, it was more like sulking as I got onto the plane and letting the man next to me buy wine until we almost emergency landed in Ireland. Geez. Despite the horrible turbulence, late flights and so on, i showed up in dakar looking sassy in my heels in beautiful 75 degree weather. Jealous? But tomorrow I am off to the village. Sira Ba returns, get ready Pakane. Your crazy toubab is back! 8 months and im done, crazy right! Yikes!