An Update: Somewhat disjointed, but comprehensive nonetheless...

April 4th: My last entry on "Africa @50" was full of optimism and energy, none of which characterize my sentiments during Senegal's 50th Independence Day celebration last weekend. To fully understand my frustration, you must have a sense of the potential that lay within this historic moment - something I touched on in my last blog post. Instead of using this moment for introspection, the celebration was President Abdoulaye Wade's egotistical display of profane, self-congratulatory back-patting. He, with use of public funds, apparently paid for the travel of several heads of state and dignitaries including a delegation from New York featuring none other than Jesse Jackson and the head of the NAACP, to attend the inauguration of his disgusting statue. The statue, by the way, has been lit with what look like disco lights that use up so much energy that we, in Ouakam, had nightly black-outs averaging about 3-5 hours for two weeks leading up to the inauguration. Needless to say I was disappointed to hear about Jesse Jackson and company. It seems that folks have become so caught up with grand gestures, they have forgotten (or don't care) to do their research to insure that the ends justify the means.

 

Set Setal, Take 2: On March 28th my little corner of Ouakam (Cite Assemblee) held its second Set Setal since my arrival. After a couple of months of theoretical planning with the Set Setal crew (Papis, Malang, Mustafa, Tamsir & Vicky), and a couple of weeks of rushed preparation (including a couple of days of absolute mayhem), the big day finally arrived. Like the last time, I woke up after too few hours of sleep unsure of how many of the hundreds of neighbors we had solicited would actually show up. The beginning was slow and after the first hour we had only attracted a group of hard-working kids. Eventually, with the sound system set up and music blazing, the adults joined in. The artists we had invited painted beautiful murals on the 3 walls we targeted and prepared. Overall the set setal was wildly successful. A little fun fact: 2STV, a local news station, showed up and my 15-second interview was shown that evening. A photographer friend was there to capture all of the beautiful images of the day and we plan to collaborate to put together an exhibition of the photos in the neighborhood before I leave. I will have images to share after that!

A note on Love: I have gone through a somewhat rough period recently, but have come out stronger than ever. Today I find myself wondering less and less frequently about whether or not my feelings make sense or whether they are 'possible' at such a fast rate. All of these abstract notions, 'sense' and 'possibility' have been stretched to their modest limits over the past couple of weeks and they no longer serve as my points of reference. I feel like if my life were a graph, its curve is on a steady incline into God's realm where human-constructed obstacles fall away allowing for love to thrive at its purest. I realize, for the first time in my life, that love is less of a state of being, and more of an ongoing series of decisions and actions with blissful, wholly self-gratifying results.

The Countdown: It's official. This coming fall I will be starting a joint MBA-Public Policy degree at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh! It has been a long, exhausting, but worthwhile process. I have been awarded both a merit scholarship and a full-tuition Fellowship. So many people have been generous with their time and energy in supporting me through this period - thank you so much, I am deeply grateful. I find it fitting that the admitted MBA student website is called "the Countdown." I imagine that this name captures the bittersweet anticipation felt by many of members of the class of 2012. I, for one, feel very torn. Part of me is already there reveling in the new forms of intellectual stimulation, nesting in a new apartment and city, already making plans to bring peers on an MBA trek to Senegal..etc. Part of me wants to stay here and enjoy the fruit of the many rich relationships I have cultivated over the past two years. But there is no stopping or slowing down in this world. I am excited for the change of pace and I look forward to being able to return to Senegal with more to offer than my many ideas and good intentions.

AFRICAN INDEPENDENCE @50: In 1960, referred to by some as "The Year of Africa," 17 African states gained their independence, following the lead of Ghana in 1957. Among them, Senegal is now celebrating its 50th year of independence. It is something to be celebrated, but also an appropriate moment to pause, honestly discuss the state of affairs and envision a path forward. This is not only important in terms of the country and continent's economical development, but also its strategic position in the world, its unity, its role in global affairs (i.e. Haiti crisis), etc. There is much to be decided, much to be acted upon. Here I'd like to share my vision of tomorrow's "Africa", in abstract. My toast to Africa and her brilliant future.

I see a land of unlimited potential. One of the most frustrating things to come to terms with is being without electricity in a country where there is almost always sunshine and wind from the Atlantic. I see future urban and rural landscapes powered by energy expertly harvested (by Africans) from the sun and wind. I envision renewable energy training facilities to prepare for and fill the inevitable plethora of green jobs created by a new sustainability policy adhered to by the public and private sectors and subsidized by the government. 

A more specific example of how this eco-friendly vision could be manifested in Dakar: Every fall Dakar and its poor suburbs flood, displacing thousands of families, disrupting micro-economies, and causing a public health nightmare. This happens every year and yet the government acts like it has been caught completely off guard each time. I see a government, led by innovative leaders who are willing to listen to the needs of the population, hosting an international forum of eco-friendly design, urban planning, and crisis management to come up with a creative and sustainable solution to this problem (and possibly channeling the rainwater in a more productive way). This, in my mind, is the most ideal type of private-public partnership, one in which partners are on equal terms. Should the World Bank or any other traditional creditor wish to fund it, they would be welcomed under a whole new set of equitable terms (and would be less likely to be reincarnated as dung beetles in future lives :-P).

I envision a return to subsistence agriculture, in the sense that national and intra-continental policies focus on developing African agricultural sectors to meet popular needs rather than exporting European-determined cash crops and importing rice from Thailand, cotton products from the U.S., chocolate from Europe...etc. This would mean building up a manufacturing sector to produce finished products instead of exporting raw goods (only to buy them back in plastic wrapping and at higher prices). Whether through "a more perfect" African Union similar to the EU, with its policies of economic fluidity and protectionism, or through loose trade agreements that favor intra-contenental deals above inter-contenental ones. It's about time Africa acted selfishly. 

It is already clear that, ironically, the continent's general lack of communications infrastructure has allowed it to leap frog into the world of wireless tech free from the burden of cables and landlines. I see a future of more mobile banking, wireless public computer terminals,and wireless innovation in the education, public health, good governance (anti-corruption), and local business development sectors. Imagine being able to report, by cell phone, any public servant requesting a bribe with a guarantee of immediate follow up. Public access to information and resources is a pre-requisite for governmental transparency. Here is an example of wireless and mobile technology being used by citizens from Kenya, Ghana, South Africa...etc to respond to situations of social unrest and, more recently, Haiti's earthquake response.

Others have already started building an Africa in which the best and brightest young minds are not shipped overseas to be trained within Euro-centric academic settings. I foresee a rich network of schools like the African Leadership Academy, offering an alternative to secondary education in Europe and the U.S. and promoting leadership, social entrepreneurship, and a do-it-yourself attitude towards problem solving. Beyond the practical skill-set promoted in these new centers of learning, the academic curricula will focus on African histories, languages, arts, scientific discoveries, academics...etc. And for those who cannot afford private education, publicly funded schools that provide both academic and vocational training with an emphasis on homegrown industries including green jobs, tech, manufacturing, and social enterprise.

Lastly, I see an Africa sure of herself and her image abroad. She is not the stereotypical "mama Africa" often cast as overly maternal (always thinking and caring for others, not herself), and a little outdated. She is strong, independent, young and trendy. She does not need to explain herself to others, nor does she need to be revitalized, for she is all that is fresh. I see this in the arts, particularly in the growing fashion scene,  design, and social media. I hope to see more of this in the way Africa presents herself to the world proactively rather than being (mis)represented by others. This does not necessarily mean denying any faults and making grandiose gestures beyond her means (i.e. Wade to Haitians), but portraying a more holistic and up-to-date image of Africa's many realities.

I could go on and there will no doubt be more added in future posts. I'm truly excited by this rich potential and eager to get my MBA and jump into the process of realizing this vision that I believe is shared by many. I know these points are somewhat simply stated, but they are meant to just give a taste of what can and, I'm sure, will be. It is also important to note that I've chosen to only focus on what Africa herself should do - I have plenty of other recommendations to external actors who have, in many ways, set the continent back within the last 50 years. But we are not limited to finger-pointing. We are too fabulous and full of future potential for that.

Whether or not you are African, you've traveled to part of Africa, or are deeply familiar with Senegal or any other countries on this mighty continent, you can still envision some aspect of its future. Perhaps a different representation in the U.S.? Maybe stronger diaspora relations? More African-based opportunities for inter-cultural exchange? What is your 50th "African Independence" celebration wish?

Haïti: The absolute destruction and desolation caused by the recent earthquake in Haiti has really touched me. I think this event has struck a profound chord because of Haiti's history of suffering at the hands Western bullies, the much larger "political and economic earthquake," as one journalist put it in the Huffington Post. When Gilda, a Haitian American friend here in Dakar, sent out an email asking friends to help her organize a Dakar-based response, I eagerly launched myself into what has become a full-blown organization seeking legal recognition as Initiative Senegal-Haiti. Here is a blurb on what we're about:

Initiative Sénégal-Haïti is a group of private initiatives formed spontaneously after the disaster. As "Unity is strength" is the Haitian logo, we are people of all ages, professions and multi-cultural backgrounds based in Dakar who have decided to establish a link between Senegal and Haiti. Initiative Sénégal-Haïti aims to meet the immediate needs of earthquake victims and create longer-term partnerships between the communities of Senegal and Haiti.

So far we've organized a 8.5KM march that attracted over 400 participants and a salsa workshop that raised over $600, the theme of which was Alice Walker's prophetic quote, "Hard times require furious dancing." We are planning a 'Haiti Day' featuring a historical exhibition, film screenings and discussions, a fashion show and sale, and a fundraising concert. We're hoping to, through these cultural activities, share Haiti's rich history, culture and spirit of resilience with the people of Senegal and also mobilize Dakar communities to engage in this very human crisis.

Our very first engagement with the public was a shout-out about our initiative at a regular bi-weekly poetry slam. Side note about poetry slams in Dakar: They are less like NYC's infamously riotous Nuyorican scene and more like bohemian, guitar-strumming, soft-spoken, poetry reciting, open mic nights where the french influence bears heavily, like an overdose of floral perfume. "Je t'aime, je t'adore, sans toi je suis riens...." However, on the night in question we centered the poeticking on Haiti, diaspora relations, and mobilization in Senegal. I was inspired to write the piece below, though I didn't stay long enough to read it (excuse the "french").

Dakar-Haiti 2010

It's twenty-ten/time to build anew/no time to wait/for another round of handouts/that are never free/ with strings attached to hands that control and manipulate from air conditioned board rooms/ far from the forests, villages, people, waters, electrical grids, and young minds they degrade/ Senegal, it's twenty-ten/it's time to think about solar power/and returning the people to power/and taking Wade out of power/and memorializing our generation with actions and not monuments celebrating....what?/La Renaissance Africaine?/ I never knew we were dead/Dakar, I don't know about you, but I feel alive/don't need to be reborn/need jobs, infrastructure, real leadership, leaders who actually give a sh**/not just empty political gestures/ a piece of land for Haiti in Senegal.../why don't we start with some real sh**?/ like sending Haiti some positive energy, some money, some thoughts, some support, solidarity/from one people to another/separated only by history's crimes/tonight we feel your pain/we have our own problems, but we too are part of this world/my friends, it's twenty-ten.

Thus far my work (approximately 20 hours per week) helping to build Initiative Senegal-Haiti has been a little stressful due to the internal politics and ageism involved, but on the whole, also very rewarding. Not only is this an insightful learning experience on mobilizing and fundraising in Dakar and building a coalition, but I am grateful to have the opportunity to help in any way I can. I am SO very proud of my mom, who has been picked as a senior representative of USAID to work on a task force assessing the on the ground situation and determining how to best transition from short to long-term support. She is currently on her way to Haiti, where she will be for a few weeks. Good luck Mom!

In the mean time, if any of you have connections to people on the ground in Haiti who can maybe enlighten me and my colleagues on how best to use our funds, please send me contact information. This has been one of our major points of contention - should funds we raise be used for immediate medical responses or long-term rebuilding projects? How do we, from Senegal, insure that our funds are used effectively while also supporting local, homegrown organizations rather than larger, well-endowed actors like UNICEF or the Red Cross. I am a huge advocate for giving to Partners in Health, which is a medium-sized organization with local roots, 25 years of experience in Haiti, and an irrefutable reputation for effective work. But of course, I am open to suggestions, so please send any information you have! Thank you!

Hello 2010!!!! Happy New Year people! It's incredible how time slips by so stealthily....it seems just yesterday that Mom, Dad and Simone were here celebrating the holidays with me.

It is a rite of passage of sorts to host one's parents for the first time and I feel, if I can say so myself, that I passed this milestone with all the grace a 24-year-old in an artsy apartment with mismatched dishes, the world's tiniest tea kettle, a roommate, two overly-affectionate cats, a medieval coffee brewer, and a hammock, can afford. :-)

It was amusing to see the various dimensions of my Senegal experiences converge. We spent a lot of time with old family friends, the Dieye family (tata Jackie, tonton Momar, Henriette and Ben) and the Kanes (Claire, Soum and Djinda). I had just worked with Claire, who is a very well known fashion designer, on a really cool project, including a fashion show on a boat in the middle of the Senegal river, promoting the development of the old capital, Saint Louis, and the northern region of Senegal. Consequently, I am already somewhat integrated in Claire's world of sophisticated artists and entrepreneurs, a world that seemed to once be the sole territory of my parents.

Besides partying with the country's elite, my parents hit it off well with my neighborhood crew (Oumy, Papis, Malang and Mustafa still ask about you!) and my former host family (Moussou, Yacine and Mamma send their best). One unforgettable moment was having Dad and Mamma (host mom) banter over a dinner of couscous - Mamman singing my praises with such creative platitudes as "Elle est adorable! Comme un bonbon, mwaah!" (with a smack of fingers to the lips) and Dad asking her how much I paid her to say that.

We did a lot of traveling in air-conditioned SUVs, mini vans and beat-up taxis with the grim tales of David Sedaris's Holidays on Ice as entertainment. In Saint Louis we saw the most incredible old houses renovated artistically to be used as residences, guest lodges, and galleries. It was like going on a fantasy HGTV tour. We spent one night in a part of the Sahel desert called Lampoul, where the sand dunes almost looked like snowy hills in the clear moonlight. We slept in Bedouin tents and rode on camels in the morning...not as glamorous an activity as it might sound.


It was also a pleasure having Duma back here again. Her visit was so reflective of who she is as a person - short, but so very sweet. We celebrated her return in a way only really good friends do: we had a Sex and the City mini-marathon, we went on tailoring runs, and I bought and killed a sheep for a 'second Tabaski' celebration with friends (okay, I didn't kill it - my neighbor did).

Okay, so now I have almost covered all of the important highlights from these past few months of blog-negligence. Of course I am, for your sakes, skipping over the hours of pouring over application essays and filling in online forms for grad school. It is worth mentioning, however, that I have been accepted to one school so far (yay!) and am waiting to hear from the others. Will keep you posted on that front.

Now that it seems my free time is infinite without any application work to do, I have, of course, filled it all up again with a new initiative: organizing and fundraising in response to the earthquake in Haiti. But, I will leave that for the next post....

Operation Tabaski! Over the past month or so Dakar has been absolutely overrun by moutons (sheep) in what is unofficially known as Operation Tabaski. In preparation for the religious holiday, which took place on Saturday, people set up small enterprises to sell sheep to Dakar residents at prices ranging from $60 to $2,000, depending on the breed of course. This veritable mouton industry is in interesting and significant part of the country's informal economy, complete with its own terminology (the most expensive breed of sheep is referred to as the "limousine") and social hierarchy. Out of curiosity and in support of neighborhood friends and entrepreneurs, Papis, Malang and Mustafa, I decided to document their Operation Tabaski mouton-selling activities for what will hopefully become a tool for them to attract future investments via micro-finance. I will post the video, filmed by myself and Papis, as soon as possible.


Now that the holiday has passed, the city has been reclaimed by humans and I can open my windows without encountering the drift of offensive mouton odor. I spent Tabaski at maambooy's house as usual and ate enough mouton over the weekend to last me until next year. Today at work I exchange belated Tabaski greetings with colleagues and students, some of whom are vegetarian and still shared in the festivities, others who are traumatized and intend to become vegetarian the moment they return home.


Here are some photos of Tabaski-wear:

Below are my two roomies, Sonya, a Barnard Senior currently in Dakar, and Mariam Diop, talented fashion designer.
And the winnder for most creative Tabaski outfit design goes to....Yacine Ba for her black bassin onesy with hot pink beaded belt creation. Fabulous.

Winner for most elegant 'Traditional' Tabaski outfit goes to Aminata Ndao for her white and gold boubou.

Giving Thanks: It is interesting and telling that I wrote my last blog at the end of Ramadan. Since then many exciting and noteworthy things have happened - all too real to try to relay here in this limited virtual forum. The most significant and yet the hardest to capture in words is the spiritual journey I have awakened to find myself on. I say awakened rather than embarked, because this has been a long journey, perhaps it even began during my childhood, but I have only recognized it consciously within the past couple of months. Suddenly everything in my life revolves around spirit. The steps we teach students to communicate inter-culturally are all about realizing that your reality is constructed based on your cultural values and perspective. This constructivism is at the root of how I see God, life, creation/free will, happiness, change.



Perhaps this awakening began during Ramadan, which I tried to make meaningful by reflecting on religion (notably my Christian background and experiences with Islam) and my beliefs, which often do not align with religion. Nowadays I dwell over concepts read and re-read in Conversations with God, I take my time slowly digesting words by Alice Walker, I try to have meaningful soul-provoking conversations, I ask a lot of questions. My boss, who bears witness to this process, casually used the term "existential crisis" over lunch the other day. That made me smile.



Perhaps it is all of these nosy essay questions in applications for graduate programs. I lay bare my ambitions, strengths, weaknesses, regrets and lessons within a sincere response and then, coming to as if from a trance, wonder if the admissions committee really wants to know who I am. It has been one of the many pleasant surprises in life thus far - applying to business school can indeed be an introspective and even spiritual process.



Perhaps it is the constant questioning we encourage among our students. They come here often having already planned out their lives - first peace corps, then NGO work, and along the adventurous route of a career in development they plan to go. They arrive expecting these ambitions to be unquestioningly supported and instead we force them to question and challenge the concepts upon which they have built their dreams. Development from and towards what? Are we a good model of 'developed'? Who chooses these standards? Does happiness mean the same thing for everyone? Is the concept of universalism just a cover for cultural hegemony? This is the juiciest meat of our program and the most rewarding. Is it such a leap to connect it back to constructivism and the realm of the spiritual?



Perhaps it is, as auntie Alice might suggest, the gardening. Since my return to Dakar from the U.S. this summer I have been caring for the family of plants I inherited on the roof of my apartment. With the help of a more experienced gardener who brought new nutrient-rich soil and advised me on the needs of the different plants, I have been nurturing them and watching them grow. It is a small but nonetheless miraculous thing to witness - after misting (spraying water on the leaves of) my favorite plant, a frangipani tree, I can literally see it perking up.



I know your eyebrows may well be creeping up incredulously and now maybe you are smiling or shaking your head thinking "existential crisis." Again, that makes me smile. Because if it is a crisis I am going through, I never want it to end.



On this day, so ironically earmarked for giving thanks each year, I continue on my present path, more awake than I've ever felt. And for that I am thankful.

Kor bi jeex na! Ramadan is over. Alhamdelilah. This year was my first time fasting during the full month. For those who aren't familiar, this entails waking up to eat before sunrise, going without food or water during the day, and breaking fast after dusk. Of course, lots of praying is involved or, as in my case, meditation and reflection on beliefs and values. The hardest part was the overall fatigue from lack of sleep and fuel. The best part was breaking fast with neighbors, friends, family, and strangers throughout the month. I can count the number of times I ate at home on one hand during Ramadan. Now that it's over and I'm writing this in an empty apartment (except for the cats) after having cooked and eaten alone, I miss the camaraderie of the ndogou (Wolof word for 'cutting' the fast).

Ndogou: coffee, tea and hot chocolate with bread and jam, dates, and sandwich cold cuts

Left: Moussou and Oumy during Oumy's Ramadan bday dinner.

Right: Oumy's bday dinner. Maty, Fatou ak bagasam, Julie (my current roommate), and me.
Far right: Malang, Papis and Ibrahima (aka sai sai bu mag).










On the down side, I totally let my application work and GMAT studying get behind due to my general lack of energy. I realize that this goes somewhat against the rules of Ramadan, which state that fasting must not prevent one from fulfilling one's normal obligations. However, I have also realized that I am really stubborn. I decided to fast and I wanted to do it all the way. Now I just have a lot of catching up to do. I'm okay with that.

This past weekend was Korite (Eid Al Fitr in Arabic), which I spent with the family at Maambooy's house (Grandma's house). Here are some pics of the festivities below.

Women of the family prepare the food during the day.

Yacine Ba, my little sister when I was here in 2006. Same age as Simone.

Moussou and I went with a black and gold theme.

We even got Tinari to dress up for the festivities.

Me and Maambooy, my Senegalese grandma.