Thankful Birthday

 The Senegalese don’t really celebrate birthdays. Case in point: I returned a few days after my youngest brother Saliou’s birthday and when I asked my mom what they’d done to celebrate it she replied, “Oh yeah. I forgot it was this week. Well, if we have money we’ll make a cake for him and Baba (my other brother with a birthday a few weeks prior) on Saturday.” That never happened.

Display Tactics

Back at Jazz Fest, because this story is so grand I split it into two…

Jazz vs Leather

Promotional Poster

One of the last big projects of my service took place at the 19^th annual Jazz Festival in Saint Louis, Senegal. A four day adventure in Jazz stylings from around the world centered on the island of Saint Louis and entertaining both your days and nights, this festival provided an opportunity for local artisans to expose their products to both tourists and locals alike. Through the network of artisans affiliated with Peace Corps, Demba- my leather cohort- collaborated to rent a booth with six other artisans in the group.

Marketing Plan

If I had to define the nature of my work in Senegal in one word it would be “marketing.” If you gave me a few more, I might be tempted to add “Microsoft Publisher.” But marketing could sum up most of what I spend my time talking, thinking, or dreaming about and generally working on project wise.

Taibatoise Catalog

As Demba and I gear up for future festivals, expositions, and tourism conferences planned for my last few months of service, I felt it was time to make him a catalog. And what better place to display the draft than here? The one caveat is that everything displayed is thanks to the efforts of by Demba and myself. He has other products (Senegalese style bags, shoes, and even home decor) but I wanted to display our work together! You'll have to check out the catalog to see the full range of products.

Thiou Yap

And so another recipe is recorded as Aida, Proprietor of the Resto Porokhane, and I move onto another business topic: Marketing. Today we sat down to learn another of my favorite dishes Thiou Yap (pronounced “chew yap”). This is a wonderful tomato based meat and vegetable dish served over white rice.

Thiebou Yap

Continuing with the recipes that I eat quite frequently and enjoy, I present you with Thiebou Yap (pronounced “cheb boo yah-p”) this is a traditional lunch meal translated to mean rice with meat.

Investment Talk

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Money in the Market

What is an investment? Where I live, it means spending all your money as soon as you get it so as to avoid the possibility of giving to someone else. For if someone was to ask you for money, and you had it, you would need to give it to them by rule of Senegalese (and West African?) culture. Instead, you should buy something for yourself or the house as soon as you receive the funds. This way you’ve bought the cement, for example, needed to build that wall you’ve always wanted. Granted the cement is only the first step because you also need sand delivered and the labor to make the blocks… but it’s a building block (pun intended). You’re now one step closer to having your dream wall thanks to the investment.

English Class

The beans have already been spilled that I moonlight as an English teacher once a week. It’s a secondary project by Peace Corps standards; meaning it’s a method to occupy time that has nothing to do with small enterprise development.

Artisan Work

Magic Wallet & More

I was introduced to my “leather guy,” as most PCVs call the artisan Demba Mbow, when I formally visited Mboro on a 5 day tour with my predecessor in September of 2009. The guy had made a couple of quality items for my predecessor: new wallet, a belt, and a few items for his female family members back home. At the time, I’d tossed him my magic wallet from J. Crew to see if he could recreate it. A few weeks later, I went back.

Extreme Rollercoaster

I had a perfect Sunday. I slept in late and read a book in bed under the covers. I got up midmorning and ate breakfast while doing some writing. I greeted my family, but they left me alone to work. Then I walked over to the school to connect to the internet, wrote a friend a letter and had spare time to browse some articles on the web. After some friendly banter with a few kids and a call from Kenny, I went home change and get ready for the day.

Medical Situation

As soon as I got home from a trip to Dakar, I knew I was at risk for getting sick (for the millionth time!) when I spotted mom stumbling around with an achy body and coughing up a storm. Awesome. The two people I can’t avoid catching a cold from are my mom and youngest brother, Saliou. I spend too much time with these two. Lo and behold, a few days later I woke up feeling off.

3rd Year

Soap Packaging Project

So if I’ve created a bucket list, you better believe the thought has crossed my mind once, or several hundred times, what I’ll be doing once my service with Peace Corps is up. It’s not unusual that I have no idea- that hasn’t changed much since people started asking in high school. However, there are a few things I’ve figured out. I’m not boarding a plane from Dakar directly to the US. Wherever I land will give me reliable internet access. At some point I’ll force my Dad to sit through another graduation ceremony (for my master’s degree), but I don’t know that that will be this year or the next. I’m also certain that I’ll have to determine a permanent address in the USA to maintain voting privileges, but I couldn’t tell you where that will be. Basically, I still use the phrases “when I grow up” and “I’ll tell you when I’m done.”

Food Porn

The idea of food porn is not my creation. In fact, I actually can’t attribute it to anyone in particular. But it is, however, a much thought about and highly integrated part of a Peace Corps Volunteer’s life. The word porn is used in this sense to mean an unfulfilled desire captured in video, picture, verbal exchanges, and publication- cyber or printed. And of course it has to involve food: making, buying, preparing, ordering, eating, or just simply staring at a coveted food item. The practice of engaging in one of the aforementioned verbs related to food is considered “food porn.”

For the average PCV, food porn is a daily vice like nicotine or booze to an alcoholic. Perhaps, it’s the mere exercise of sitting in one’s room smelling the preparation of lunch and day dreaming about what the day would be like if your favorite meal were in store- instead of the rice and fish you’re going to get. Some volunteers will watch cooking shows like Iron Chef, Hell’s Kitchen, or anything found on the Food Network to get their fix. Others explore all the different substitutes possible in their favorite recipes given what’s available in Senegal. For example, I have made a fabulous batch of chocolate chip cookies substituting honey from the Casamance region for brown sugar. Don’t judge me or I won’t share any of the millet banana cake. And still others spend time looking up pictures or articles about food online. Websites like thisiswhyyourfat.com and one’s giving food critic reviews are nothing to dismiss.

There is a volunteer produced cookbook with tricks of the trade: building your own stove or baking with a gas tank and the more successful in-country substitutes for unavailable ingredients. But whenever possible we prefer to spend money at import stores buying western ingredients to cook at home or in our regional houses. Volunteers often have their favorite foods shipped to them by loved ones. Peanut butter, spices, dried or freeze-dried items, and even meals for created for mountain climbing enthusiasts. Again, don’t knock some of those pasta dishes until you’ve tried them.

Volunteers frequently attempt to make American meals to share with their host families. The success rate is dismal but the efforts continue. To my knowledge one of the truly “amazing” things my predecessor made for my family was a pot of extremely spicy chili (though it’s unclear if the success was due to the level of spice or that the spice clouded the taste of the foreign meal). For holidays I attempt to make my family some of my favorite desserts. And they eat it politely but I can always tell they don’t understand the concept of apple cobbler or why anyone would want to make such a chocolate moist cake (read: brownies).

And when none of this is sufficiently satisfying, we PCVs travel over multiple days to reach the splendor that is Dakar often creating a weekend agenda centered solely on food. The attraction is of course the bevy of western restaurants and menu items. Cuisines of Chinese, Thai, Japanese, Korean, Lebanese, Ethiopian, French, Italian, Mexican and even an American diner food and a KFC knock off are residents of Dakar.

But none of this will ever compare to the day we actually go back to the Western worlds from which we came and our food porn was born. With my pending vacation in the great land of convenience (aka the USA), I can’t help but imagine my first meal back home. Not just casually thinking of my favorite foods, and narrowing them down to most important, I take it one step further to food porn because I picture myself preparing and then sitting down to the master piece of a meal. I can smell the kitchen and grill smells, lick the bowls used in preparation, see the familiar colors of my favorite items, and I salivate. In fact, since I’m thinking about it now, I might as well share.

My dream starts with some fresh pieces of veggies (like carrots, cucumber, and broccoli) dipped in the hidden valley ranch packets that are mixed with sour cream to make dip. It should be noted that I mix 1.5 packages to prescribed amount of sour cream for increased flavor. This is washed down with my favorite white wine Relax, a type of Riesling. For dinner we eat a McCormick seasoned steak grilled medium-well and served with horseradish sauce (made from a base of wasabi mayo and horseradish). On the side is a salad with the following toppings: dried cherries, feta cheese, onions, tomatoes, cucumber, and croutons. The dressing is, of course, jalapeño ranch from Pepperidge Farm. For dessert there’s a giant bowl of cold berries (really any fruit ending in berry will do) and barely thawed cool whip. Oh, and let’s not forget the large warm chocolate chip cookie. I don’t like a lot of chocolate chips in my cookie, just one or two, because I’m really in it for the dough- of which I’ve already a few spoonfuls when raw.

No, not all of those items go together, but I suppose it wouldn’t be food porn if they did. Or if I hadn’t described it all in what I’m sure was boring detail to you (which was pretty agonizing for me). I do think it’s telling that most of the items were based from fresh healthy foods… that were accompanied by dairy based products. It says that I don’t get either of those food “groups” in sufficient quantity here. You should be concerned if my 1st supper had included rice, pasta, bread, or any other form of carbohydrate. But anyway, I figure you get what I mean by food porn by now. And yes, Dad, the above was a not-so-subtle hint. Thanks.

Girls Camp

My first big project is complete; quite possibly the only project that I’ll “complete” during my service. But to be honest, it should be an annual camp, so I guess the work is never really done. I wouldn’t consider it a slam dunk/ home run of a success… but I’m sure the girls would disagree with me.

From the girls’ point of view, we succeeded in getting them out of their communities for a week. We took them to a University in our region (something they’d never seen before), divided them into teams of people they’d never met before and taught them some really cool new things. We built their confidence by allowing them to talk about what they already knew, and then we showed them new ways to achieve the results they already wanted. They all want to graduate school and become professional working women, so our main goal was to teach them how to be successful member of both a family and the professional world- at the same time! Just one small example is that they know that stress causes high blood pressure, so we taught them how yoga can be used to reduce stress (and subsequently high blood pressure). We therefore conducted yoga class every day for 15 minutes; even the Senegalese adult staff joined in.

From my American point of view, the camp was executed- but we were amateurs. We finalized our guest list as we picked the girls up… calling back to base camp at the last minute. I’m sure it didn’t appear so, but we were stressed at having to organize these details all at the last minute. And I’m also sure that the next go around people will be RSVP-ing well in advance so this won’t be a problem. There were a few other glitches like this throughout the week but the only major problem was an obvious language issue. We, the volunteers, have varying degrees of fluency in multiple languages. And no matter how sure I am of my skill… by the end of the week I found myself so exhausted I could barely say the simplest things.

The best classes were those run by people who knew the material inside and out. Knowing that we should teach a subject and going for it just based on that, in my opinion, was sloppy. And I’m speaking about myself. I was co-chair of health day. I know just enough of the basics to keep myself in mildly good health. I had no business attempting an entire day on the subject. A health volunteer should have been called in. Or a doctor consulted, you could say. Live and learn, right? On the plus side, we moved from a question and answer section where weight loss was discussed to outdoor “Olympics” full of heart pumping fun. So no, the day wasn’t a failure, but it also wasn’t my proudest moment.

Other days were bigger successes. Gender development and future sparkled with its guest speakers; successful Senegalese professional women who were eager answer the girls’ questions about being a woman/ wife/ worker. Environmental day hit homers with its hands on composting, recycling, and micro-gardening. Business day won a place in every girl’s heart with its demonstration of home-made African-style Lip-Smackers’ lip gloss.

Ok, so even as I write this I feel like I’m talking myself into how great the camp really turned out. And yeah, lot of good was born from this week, but I saw things going so much more spectacular in my Mefloquine induced dreams. I envisioned an immediate call to action from every girl to start groups back in their home towns; this one for gardening, that one to sell lip gloss, another to start a yoga club. When asked about it, they all said they wanted to… but anyone who’s been in development work long enough knows that without prompt action from the overly enthused it probably won’t come to pass. I sigh once again at the thought that if we’re lucky one girl will take a minute to stretch her back with a yoga pose, or recycle an old water bottle, or ask a parent for lip balm ingredients. Hopefully…

English Camp

I recently spent a week living out of the Peace Corps house in Dakar in the name of teaching English. Organized through the Embassy, a local University, and an organization promoting the English language (or so I assume), Peace Corps Volunteers were matched with 14-16 year olds who’ve formed groups outside of their normal classes to learn English in their free time on weeknights and weekends.

I was assigned to a middle school in an area technically just outside of Dakar, though only the snobbiest of locals would say such a thing, with 3 other PCVs: a 3rd year and 2 girls from the latest batch of installs who’ve be here since March. We were given cab fare (from the organizers of the camp?) to get out there and back each day, an excursion that took 15 to 30 minutes depending on: the traffic, general area knowledge held by the driver, and our ability to describe our destination in French/ Wolof.

I missed the prep day held before the camp due to “cough” illness so I had to rely on the 3rd year for direction as to our official roles in the camp. My impression was that we were facilitators. There were Senegalese teachers attending the camp… and I assumed they were in charge. Ha. As my Dad would say, “To assume makes an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’.” So the first day of camp was a shit show. We stood there in front of the kids asking each other what we should be doing for the next 4 hours. We made up some camp rules and started teaching them songs. Anyone caught speaking a language other than English was made to sing “I’m a little tea pot” in front of the whole group.

Later we broke out the girls and boys into different groups to try talking about gender specific issues… but in my opinion this proved too be difficult as we had not yet gained their confidence on the first day. When asked what they wanted to be when they grew up we got one of 4 answers (as if we’d given a multiple choice test): doctor/ nurse, teacher, policeman, or pilot. None of them could really answer the question of what they had to do after high school to become these professions. I’m hoping they just didn’t understand our English.

After a break, we discovered that we’d really been assigned two different schools of English kids and this was the first time the groups had met. So we decided to pair them off, each with someone they didn’t know, and ask them to interview and then present their new friend to the group. The last question they asked of their new friends was “what do you want to ask the Americans?” This seemed to be a hit (finally!) and we all had a good time answering the questions for the kids. Admittedly they weren’t all easy: What do you think about Obama’s health care plan? What is racism like in the States?

At the end of the first day, I attempted to push for organization but was asked if I was “having a bad week” cause why else was I so uptight? Right. So day two was another shit show. We decided to make morning warm-up a daily thing consisting of ‘Head Shoulders Knees and Toes’ and Simon Says. We then stumbled through some more songs and an awkward hour or so of explaining baseball before sending them off to play soccer. Later I taught a small group to do the hustle and fox trot, while other groups learned more songs and different games. Not all that bad for some impromptu work, honestly.

By day three we’d collectively come to the realization that preparation and organization would make the camp that much more fun. After morning warm-up, we organized alternating groups of singing- which I swear they loved and that’s why we kept on teaching them- and making a personal flag art project. We brought in a bunch of old magazines, markers, colored pencils, and glue for them to decorate a one page paper with pictures that represent themselves. Then they wrote a few sentences on the back explaining their pages. We took pictures of all of them (which were later printed out in black and white and glued into the corners). The activity was well received. Day four consisted of morning warm-up, a session on Rock Paper Scissors, and trading between outdoor games like Steal the Bacon, Red Rover, and Freeze Tag, and indoor session on American slang.

The final day was meant to be a party. We were given a significant sum of cash to purchase supplies and with it we made cold pasta and fruit salads and bought juice and sprite, cookies, chips and dip, and candies. We played music and hung out eating. The kids also stood up and explained their personal flag art projects to their fellow campers. Later we took pictures and exchanged contact information. At the end we stood in a circle and each gave our favorite and most challenging aspects of camp, plus what we were looking forward to in the future. It was at the point we realized the epic failure of the first day's "future career" session, as we discovered actual desires to be come translators, presidents, engineers, lawyers and teachers. The campers then started to cry; it was time to say goodbye.

As frustrated as I was in the beginning with general lack of organization (but really, why am I surprised?), in the end the experience was a good one. I’ve already received a number of texts from the campers practicing their English. I have mixed feelings about participating next year- mainly about the time commitment- but I suppose I would do it in a heartbeat if I knew I could have the same group of kids again.

Charles' View

I’ve made a new friend. His name is Charles. He’s Senegalese born, grew up in Paris, studied and worked in the US, and now lives in Canada. Or should I say lived? He’s currently working for the Canadian government on a project I don’t fully understand, but somehow equates to the Canadian version of USAID. He’s been assigned to Mboro for the next 5 months.

I met Charles by chance. I had originally tried to work with the women’s groups of Mboro… but was blown off because of my initially oh-so-poor language skills. The top women in the cooperative of groups don’t speak French and I can barely pass introductory Wolof. As it happens, a few weeks back I saw one of the women sitting in the street and was invited to pass by their offices to say hello. A week or two later, I did so on my way to something else. They told me about their operations, their biggest problem being sales, and an open house they were thinking about hosting. I mentioned that I was organizing Marketing classes and we agreed I should find a way to teach the women as well. In the mean time, with the pending open house, I would show them some examples of basic marketing they could use during the event. I made a draft promotional flyer and went back the next week to show them. They introduced me to Charles.

He too was trying to demonstrate all the potential the pending event could bring to the women’s sales. We spend the rest of the day talking, exchanging marketing ideas, etc. I told him I would gladly join in on this quest to revamp the women’s products in order to capture sales both in Mboro and new markets. In his 5 months, we wants to teach to teach the women about quality control, redo packaging and labeling, and install a marketing and sales plan. This is not his only project in town. Maybe I’ve been here too long, but it seems like he’s got a lot on his plate and a short amount of time to accomplish it. On the other hand, maybe I’ve become too complacent with the Senegalese pace of life and have therefore resigned myself to a lack luster dance card of possibilities. Hmm.

In the later part of our initial, yet day long, encounter, Charles started to voice his opinions about the way the Senegalese handle their affairs. This made me smile. Here I was with a Senegalese man who had more complaints than I about his own country. He’d only been in Mboro a short time, but was already frustrated with meetings that didn’t start on time and weren’t even productive when they did start. He’s annoyed by the politics and the lack of initiative to get things done.

Another day I explained to Charles that Mboro was a pretty lucky place to be assigned. I described the typical village-life Peace Corps service and he absolutely could not believe it. He couldn’t do it. He’d worked so hard to get where he has, he can’t imagine going back. As he spent the whole of his Senegalese life in Dakar, I suppose he’s saying he has no idea how he would adjust to village life. It is quite different from the world of Dakar. As it stands, however, Charles is like any other Westerner. He takes anti-malarial prophylaxis and can’t drink the tap water without getting sick. I told him I expected this life, had asked for it.

In the short time I’ve known him, Charles has amused me. He is contradictory to all I know about Senegal… perhaps I need to think of him as child of the world instead of just one place. He has gotten me to rethink that with which I’ve become complacent, and I find a bit of my American self coming back around. Today, I made a ‘to do’ list and assigned everything a deadline. These are things I can do by a specific day. I’ve forgotten I have that capability; to commit to myself. Or maybe I needed someone else alongside me, maybe I made a ‘to do’ list of things I’m doing for “our” project. I suppose the best thing about Charles is that he is my new colleague; my coworker.

And so in honor of Charles, I leave you to join him at the boutique for an after work beer. Look, happy hour is back too!

Development Work

My experience with development work is extremely lacking, and probably a bit narrow in focus. I preface this piece by saying that everything I talk about has been observed only here in Senegal. But somehow, I get the feeling we (me and the inhabitants of Mboro) aren’t alone. I’ve mentioned the women’s group before, and I use them as my best example to describe the chaos:
The women, like most villages or groups, were initially partnered with this or that organization from some North American or European country. Things were kicked off with construction of a lovely building, installation of all the latest equipment, and the purchase of raw materials. At this point, the 1st world partners deem the project a success. They take pictures, hold ceremonies, report to people back home, and move on to the next project… but the work has only just begun.

I see time and time again, things get set up and left for the masses to prosper… except that everything given to them is new and foreign. Perhaps they never wanted it in the first place, so they ignore what was given. Westerners import our way of life and give it to the people to “make their lives better.” What we fail to see is that these are people who have their own way about things. One tiny example is the potato peeler I gave my mom. It’s faster for me to use because I’ve been doing it all my life. But she uses a paring knife, and is thus faster with that. Not to mention the fact that she thinks my peeler is a bit ridiculous because it has only one function. At least with her knife she can then cut the potatoes afterwards…

Another pit fall to the ‘set up and go’ style of development is that perhaps the people have no idea how to operate or maintain the project results, so at the first sign of problem nearly all is lost. I’ve heard stories of water towers rendered entirely useless (if not a hindering) to the whole town because no one knew the problem was a simple change in lever. This is more ludicrous in my mind than the potato peeler because if the developers had stuck around long enough to give the proper training, the women wouldn’t have to walk so much farther just to pull water from the well outside town… the closest point of water not connected to the useless tower.

Please, don’t be discouraged yet because the list of problems does continue. As an American I grew up with the idea that to grow requires investment. A business can’t get bigger unless you buy more machines to make more products to sell and earn more profit. I therefore figure that a developing country is somehow similar. You need to invest in the ability to produce what is needed. (Probably more important is the need to invest in education, but I’ll get to that). Unfortunately, the agencies that come in and do the investing do just that and nothing more. They don’t take the time to explain our mentality of ‘invest to grow,’ thus our third problem is the reinforced mentality that in order to rise above poverty the people need to be first given something. The people stand around with their hands out waiting for their chance because from their point of view it’s only the people that receive that make it in life. They fail to see what I do: that ‘invest to grow’ mentality where by which the bigger the initial investment the faster the elimination of poverty. It makes sense in our minds, I realize that, but it’s not translating properly.

The fastest feel good way to help a cause is to give money. Money goes a long way in developing countries… but there is a limit. If you only give money, the people only get a water tower. They don’t get the training to use and properly maintain the water tower. Education is the perhaps my biggest complaint with development as an industry. Educate the people in our philosophies; explain why investment leads to prosperity. Educate the people with the skills they don’t have. If you do something for someone once, whatever was needed will get done. The problem is technically solved. But you haven’t done anything to help that person long term. What happens when the same problem arises again after you’ve gone?

Does anyone remember that old ABC Warehouse commercial? The one where they used the quote “Give a man a fish, he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish, he eats for a lifetime” and then went on to sell him an oven and he’ll eat better. Or something like that. The point is: my opinion of Peace Corps is just that. I’m happy to teach you how to do something. Here’s how to use a computer and create an email account… now you can keep in contact with business partners. Here’s how you make a promotional flyer… now you can market your products better. Here’s how to create a business (with a model or plan)… now you can open that boutique.

Unfortunately, I’m constantly battling the people with their hands out. I need to sift through the people with an arbitrary hand out to those who are truly motivated. I need to find people willing to put in the time and effort to learn a new skill, as opposed to those who just want something done for them. However, it needs to be said that sometimes, I do need to just bite the bullet and do it myself. Back to the women’s groups: they don’t understand what I mean when I say we should create a promotional flyer for their open house this week. They don’t know what one is. It would take way too long to explain marketing and promotional materials (and their benefits), more time than we have before the event. Therefore, I need to just do it myself. And then hopefully, they will see what I’m speaking of, get excited, and ask me to teach them more. “Hopefully” is quite a dangerous word here. Or maybe I’m confusing dangerous with open ended. I hope a lot of things happen… but if I can get just one good idea or project cranked out then perhaps my stint in Mboro will be that much more successful when compared to the above relayed stories of development. Hopefully.

Marketing

The theme of July seems to be marketing. In continuing with a series of train-the-trainer classes I’ve begun teaching, July’s topic is- you guessed it- marketing. So I’ve read the French 101 version, learning all the new vocabulary for concepts I’d long ago committed to memory. After that I ran around town trying to think of ways to make the class interesting. Start with the 4 Ps, right? To spice it up we’ll talk about all the different ways to buy a coke (with examples) …and then two hours later I’m facing just under 2 days of remaining class time to nail the concept home.

Realizing that promotion is the most important of the Ps as far as Mboro is concerned, I plan to dedicate the rest of our time to just that… with a few tips on selling. In the afternoon of the first day, we’ll split into teams and do a “treasure hunt” or tour of Mboro to pick out the best, worst, most effective, most attractive, useless, and other types of promotion or marketing that exist. Most collective group wins? What they win is TBD… so if you have any ideas speak up. My hope is to spark a conversation about what’s going on in Mboro and Senegal in general. What works and what doesn’t? What is over done? What are the under played gems? What catches your eye?

Day 2 will kick off with a real world example. A local women’s group is having problems selling their product. Perhaps no one knows about it, perhaps the price isn’t right… whatever it is I figure this 3rd party group of students will be perfect test subjects. I’ve invited a few women from the organization talk about their product (and let’s face it: learn something too). Then we’ll dive in- create a marketing plan uniquely tailored for this exact product in our town. I figure practice makes perfect and if we all do a marketing plan together the group will remember that and be able to recreate the model in their respective villages or their friend’s boutiques.

The last afternoon should be dedicated to being a good salesperson. How do you treat the customer? We have this handy game, that for whatever reason is titled “The Best Game,” that is useful for demonstrating hypothetical market places. We’ve played this game with the group before, demonstrating the need to produce a quality product or to properly account for your money, but I suppose this time I’ll need to find a way to demonstrate being a good seller.

But it doesn’t just end with this 2 day class. Because in case you didn’t catch it, I’ve made contact with the local women’s groups (operating like small scale minority businesses in the States) that are having problems selling their product. I’m afraid if I explain the their predicament now I’ll get bogged down in a rant on the problems with development work in general- a topic best saved for another day. In any case, I’m working on a general marketing strategy with the group which includes a tasting/ open house event a week from Friday. Miraculously, this wasn’t my idea. But I am generating ideas for the event such as creating a guest book for visitors that can be contacted later with promotional ideas we haven’t yet thought of, conducting a product survey so we can consider what updates should be made to the product, and working up promotional materials on each product to provide visual aids to the event. After said event, we’ll have to dive into more marketing strategies like finding unique product names, creating logos, revamping packaging, generating a slogan …and the list goes on.

One final bit of work is the marketing- or rather advertising- we’ll be doing for the girls summer camp my fellow volunteers and I are hosting this coming September. We’re very close to raising all the money… but can’t officially kick anything off until we have every last cent. So if any of you know someone looking for a feel-good donation project please point them in my direction. If you thought I was joking when I said this month was all about marketing, I’m not. To pour salt directly in the wound, I started watching Mad Med from season 1.

Marketing is coming at me from all sides. What is it they say, "when it rains, it pours?" It's probably my fault for getting excited about something and doing everything I can to help that project take off. I guess we already knew I was the kind of person that always has work on the mind, and that doesn’t seem to change just because my location does. Even in Senegal, I work up until dinner and through the weekends. I think about things in the shower, and talk about them when I'm with friends, like I don't have an 'off' button. But that's ok, I'm hoping it continues.

Meeting

This past Saturday, I went to an event where I served no purpose. This isn’t new. I’m fairly certain I am invited to these things as both a courtesy to myself and to act as the token white person (somewhere between the “token black guy” made fun of in movies and a trophy wife.) But this isn’t really the point.

I was originally told about an event involving women’s groups and food security projects. The 3rd counselor to the mayor told me about the event, as she is in charge of women’s groups in town. It was supposed to be the previous weekend, but somehow got pushed back to this one. Then I heard people were coming from Dakar. I was in the office when people began toting in mass amounts of fruits and vegetables… “For display?”

I was told to come back Saturday morning before 8a and to be dressed in my nice Senegalese cloths. I did this… all the way to the office I was harassed because of my dress. It’s semi normal to see a white person in my town. It’s not normal to see them dressed like Africans. Cat calls, derogatory slurs, and full body checks. Great start to my day. As if things could get better, when I got to the office people found the most impolite ways of ordering me around, do something for them in preparation. In typical Senegalese fashion, no one was prepared and everyone was running around printing last minute signs, setting up breakfast tables, and organizing food preparation.

The men sat around doing nothing, also typical, while the women did the heavy lifting, literally. After shuffling down stairs with a rather large heavy box, getting laughed at for my lack of grace, I couldn’t take it and spoke up. “You’re sitting only.” Yes. “This box is heavy, you should help me.” They laughed. I left the box sitting there. I figured if someone wanted to sit their ass down on that seat, then they can move it themselves. This is a fine example of typical lazy old man syndrome.

Anyway, things eventually got around to starting, once the caravan from Dakar arrived. Come to find out, our guests consisted of the entire mayor’s office of a city called Dalifort located just on the edge of Dakar. Newly separated from Dakar, this delegation was looking to Mboro to act as a sister to help them develop as a city; a twinning of the two cities, as they say in French. The event kicked off with introductions, photos, and prier. Followed was a tour of the mayor’s office and breakfast. At this point, only the top council to the mayor from my town stuck around. All the lazy old men left (thanks for nothing). Everyone else went on a tour of Mboro: see the different neighborhoods, the youth center, and the women’s group food transformation plant. I too ducked out of this, but only to head to other meetings I had scheduled for the day.

When I was available to join the party once more, I caught up with them at the country club lounge in the western neighborhood we have left over in town from the days of westerners running the factory. We’re talking air conditioning, white linens… the works. Apparently they’d split into groups to discuss the 3 different facets of the project proposal: health, education, and sports/culture (apparently this had nothing to do with women’s groups as I was originally told). I was starting to get the impression they had chosen these general areas at almost random (though they are important) as a method of developing committees to figure out how to work together.

When these sub committees had been formed, and topics discussed, we had lunch. This was done at my counterpart (according to Peace Corps)’s house also located in the same community. The food was amazing, yassa with mountains of vegetables and two whole chickens per bowl. I ate with our mayor, the mayor of Daliford, and two other men. There was so much food. Afterward we enjoyed pieces of cut fruit with cool lumpy sugar milk and guava juice. In an uncharacteristically Senegalese fashion, we did not sit around long after lunch- there was no siesta- but instead when back to the club room to continue meetings.

The afternoon session consisted of what started as a short summary of the committees’ progress given by one member from each team… but quickly turned into a debate. Anyone who wasn’t a part of the presenting committee had something to say about it. What was important, and what wasn’t. In the end, I’m fairly certain that this process took longer than the committees themselves had spent discussing their own topics. Interesting way of going about it, I suppose, but I can’t say I haven’t seen that in the corporate first world.

At some point, I was called aside and “dismissed.” We were wrapping up, I was told, and it wasn’t necessary for me to stay around anymore. What it ever necessary? And I thought to myself on the walk back to my own neighborhood that I don’t know how much was really going to be accomplished by this twinning of cities. By the end of the last discussion, everyone had seemed to come to the agreement that this year each city would continue its activities as normal; however the other city would be invited to attend and be privy to information concerning the management of those activities.

And this is how one describes a formal meeting to organize future formal meetings, or more concisely starting a project in Senegal.