My father Mamadou is a unique man in Senegal. He is well educated, non-religious, and understands the problems that face this country in a way that I would never have thought to be the case when I first walked into his home. What I saw when I first came to the house was an African man that resembled the gaunt figures in National Geographic that suffered from malnutrition or malaria, not a deep and sophisticated intellectual. Mamadou is a civil servant in Senegal and teaches French and Spanish at a primary school in Thies. He is Wolof, and grew up in this area. Unlike many Wolof though, Mamadou is relatively calm and rarely if ever aggressive. His passion is his family and learning. He studies language and music and teaches his children everyday.

When I came in this evening, Mamadou was sitting on the couch in his normal attire, a pair of mock-Adidas work-out pants (with four stripes instead of three) and a dark blue button down shirt open to the belly, his smooth, thin figure exposed to the heat.

After getting some water, I asked where Josephine, the girl that rents the room in the back of our house was. She has been sick the last few days and I noticed that her bed was empty. It turns out that her aunt came to the house today to take her to the hospital for what started as a chest cough but has persisted as a fever. Mamadou said that Josephine refused to eat or take any type of medicine while she was sick. He said that many Africans behave this way, afraid of taking medicines or getting shots. Ignorance was a result of the lack of education in this country.

Africa as a whole lacks for basic infrastructure and support systems. And while Senegal is advanced in terms of having electricity, clean water, and certain services, education in the country is barely supported by the government. Parents are ultimately responsible for paying for the most basic needs of students. Without education, Mamadou says there can be no progress for Africa. I asked him how it can be that there is so little money for education, for advancing the ability of the Senegalese to improve their lives.

“Because it is the politicians that decide where the money goes and if we will spend money on education. But politicians don’t want to educate the people. The only way they can continue to keep their power and riches is to suppress the people by denying them an education. This is the way it works.”

People in the villages and those struggling to make ends meat in the towns and cities see the African elite driving luxury cars past their dusty tenement neighborhoods, and throw their hands in the air asking how this can possibly be. The politically connected are financially connected, and the growing disdain among the poor for the rich has led to strife and unrest. Violence, Mamadou says, is not necessarily a bad option for those who have nothing to lose.

He jumps to attention after making this solemn observation: “Meanwhile the politicians appeal to the World Bank and IMF to receive money and protection, but where does that money really go? In Senegal the government says that 40% of the state budget goes to education, but the teachers don’t own homes, the students don’t have even rudimentary materials. You tell me where the money is. But the men from the World Bank and IMF go home to their countries and feel good as they record that because of their efforts, 40% of Senegal’s budget is financing education.”

Hours later I am still reeling from how the accurate and pointed statements that Mamadou made knocked me back to reality. He is a teacher after all, he speaks five languages, and he is Senegalese. I wonder to myself how I could have thought that he wouldn’t know these things or teach me the way things really are here. It is in moments like these when I am removed from my skin a bit, and realize that I have so much to learn about life, and so many preconceived notions to remove.

So on the spot I decided to try and make an effort to start from the basics. I asked Mamadou to tell me what the thought the most important values to the Senegalese are today.

“Ah, that is something that has begun to change. It used to be that ‘l’homme est plus important que l’argent {Man is more important than money}.’ But the Europeans changed that with hundreds of years of slavery and colonization. They brought us Islam, they brought us Christianity, and they brought us greed. Look at my own name, Mamadou. This is a Muslim name, not an African name. Look at my wife, her name is Alice and she is Catholic. It is only in the villages where one can still find roots of ancient African rituals.”

Of the various ethnic groups that make up the Senegalese population—Wolof, Pulaar, Sereer, Jiola, Mandinka, Bambara, among others, it was the Wolof that resisted French colonization the least. The Wolof people worked with the French administration and as a result it is their language that has flourished across the country. To this day there remains a collective memory and malaise between the Senegalese and their colonizers. The French are still here, their army is all over the place, their investors are the lifeline to capital improvements in the country. A difficult relationship of dependence and resent persists. Senegalese habits have adapted to this relationship but the Senegalese identity is still composed of the very oldest African values:

Loyalty, honesty, courage, solidarity, trustworthiness, honor for the family name and for country, and of course, teranga, the consummate value that even the Lonely Planet travel guide will show you.

Like many Senegalese, Mamadou will often not look at me directly when he speaks, shooting glances my way to emphasize points. But his eyes did not leave mine as he described these values to me. His look seemed to impart a truth that extended so far beyond our little house, beyond that single moment. I really felt like he was sharing a piece of the quiet and persistent rhythm of African understanding and patience that I had never known.

I pass this tree on my walk to the training center everyday. Notice the hawk sitting in the middle- these huge birds of prey are ubiquitous in Thies, eating the numerous frogs and small critters that move among the shadows at dawn and dusk.

Bamba, Lamine, and Aziz, three of our language trainers at the Peace Corps Senegal training center and the very popular ping pong table.

I went to the main market today in Thies to buy a new outlet/ extension cord for my room. When I went to buy the one that broke last night, I paid 2500cfa or about $5. Today I paid 1700cfa, no more than 50 cents above what even a skilled Senegalese negotiator could have gotten it for. It’s this type of gradual improvement that makes my days enjoyable, that make my training bearable. Where one day I may have barely cracked the afternoon glaze on my language trainers’ faces, the next I will pull off some phrase or expression that sends them into bursts of laughter and shouting.

Danke danke, moy jap golo ci niay: Bit by bit, the hunter catches the monkey in the forest. That very important Senegalese proverb has brought levity to so many situations and broken conversations.

The subject of teranga, or Senegalese hospitality came up again today in my tech class with Bamba Fall. As we discussed the four Ps of marketing—product, price, place, and promotion—the other trainees were wilting at the simplicity of the lesson. Their frustration with the lack of “substance” in what we learn in our tech classes is palpable. When Bamba asked how things were going so far during training, he probably didn’t realize the can of worms that would follow. The echo of “this is such simple subject matter,” and “when are we going to hear the real story about the Senegalese economy” bounced off of Bamba’s kind face. Mary Beth and Molly, the two current PCVs that are visiting the center this week looked knowingly at Bamba as my class bitched. They attempted to interject with comforting comments like, “I know it really seems basic to you guys right now and that you want to really get into more detailed information, but trust me, that will come as you get into your service.”

It was amusing to watch how the slightly sweaty, sunburned and reddish skin of those bitching and moaning drew such a stark contrast to the smooth, tanned skin of the volunteers, and of course of Bamba.

Bamba attempted to underscore just how important the four Ps would be to our actual work by repeating that the Senegalese simply don’t understand marketing, product placement, pricing, and even the creative drive that fuels entrepreneurialism the way Americans do so naturally.

This is the view looking onto the Saloum river in Foundgioune, one of the towns I visited during my trip in to the real Senegal during "demystification."

I have yet to get a handle on some of the ironies of Senegal but I think they must contain some clue about the future of this place and just how it will develop. Take for instance the stark contrast between abject poverty in the streets and the number of flat screen tvs, dvd players, and fancy internet cafes throughout town. As I sat here writing in my local cybercafe with its sparkly floors, a group of three talibes dressed in dirty rags approached me with their rusty tomato sauce cans begging for un cadeaux. These boys are all over the place in Senegal. By day they beg for money that they give to the local marabout or Muslim teacher who then schools them in the Koran by night. They run between mercedes benzs and peugots with bare feet and sleep in the afternoon in the shade without so much as a mat to separate them from the dirt. They are as regular here as 90 degree afternoons.

Something else you can feel is the religious devotion of the people. Prayers are conducted five times a day and you often see groups of men facing east, shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk bending down to the ground in submission to Allah. The women are required to stand behind the men when they pray so as not to distract them by bending over and flauting the everpresent African butt or Jaayfonde as it is called here. It is incredibly important for women to have a big ass in Senegalese culture and if you dont, they try to force you to eat more rice and millet to fatten up.

So while religion and chastity are integral to the culture, jaayfonde and sex are everywhere too. The women where beads around their wastes called bin-bins to entice men while teenagers, boys and girls alike, can often be found looking at porn in the cybercafes.

The other day I hopped a ride on a charette or donkey driven cart to the market to buy a cell phone. The driver showed off his fancy Nokia to me, full of pictures of his son and yet again porn videos downloaded onto the phone.

The spirit of family and shared responsibility is huge here. If someone in your family needs help you are obligated to have them stay with you and take care of them. Doing otherwise would be an enormous social no no. And yet it is just this type of Senegalese hospitality or teranga, which at times seems at odds with the growing presence of capitalism. How can someone save money when if they make a regular salary their family and neighbors are always asking for help?

vent frais= cool wind.

Last night after playing the guitar with Issa my neighbor and a few other folks from the street, the wind picked up out of nowhere and before i could even ask what the deal was, everyone on the street had taken the chairs inside, shut all the windows and shutters and bam we were inside the 90 degree house. I wanted to be outside in the wind but my mom Alice didnt want me to leave. Many senegalese dont seem to like the wind and will endure incredible heat to avoid it. The power went out with the wind and I sweated my way to sleep.

Another great moment for me today was on my way here to the cybercafe. Everyday little kids walk past and love to crowd around white people and yell toubab, toubab! They always touch and grab you and it can be a bit annoying after the tenth time. So today I tried a new phrase in Wolof: Buugna lekk xaleel! which means I like to eat children! The kids faces dropped and they all ran. It was such a triumph. I think that is how it works here, with little moments of beauty, mystery, and simple accomplishment the real currency of success.

A week in Senegal and I am blown away== This place is the most visceral and full of life environment I have ever visited. There are no boundaries between street and sidewalk; giant old bus or horse drawn cart. There is absolutely no boundary between my conversation and yours. Here everyone shares in everything. The Senegalese people are some of the friendliest in the world; always asking how you are; always joking with you about anything and everything. They negotiate better than New Yorkers and yet are incredibly gentle with one another. Here you take your time in greeting just about everyone that you encounter especially the old wise men. The most beautiful time of day is right about now; just before dinner. We are nearing the end of the rainy season and tonight a giant rainbow appeared after the rain. Everyone comes out of their house to chat and to pray. We are now only a few days into the holy month of Ramadan and the people fast from dawn to dusk. Peace Corps training has been very intense; language classes; culture classes; and later business and ecotourism. This has been fantastic and I hope to share more soon.