Dirty Feet? Oh no, I meant BEAUTIFUL feet!

This is the thought I have whenever I look at my feet these days:
EW Gross! That is some serious grunge... oh wait, no that's just the henna.

I had a blast with the CIEE students from Dakar. Rachel and Danielle were a lot of fun and we had a good time in the village. We greeted everyone, sat in on some classes, did make it out to the rice farros, although not on the day there was harvesting being done. We went to the health hut and asked questions to get an idea of how a typical consultation goes. We visted a newborn baby, hours after it was born. We saw the women's garden and ate some kickin' Yassa Poulet (chicken with onion sauce... seriously, it would have knocked your socks off). We sat in on (and danced out of) Tostan's Pulaar class. We had our feet all decked out in Senegalese henna, which in true African fashion involved a lot of sitting. A LOT of sitting.

See, first you use that plaster tape to make designs along the edges of your feet. Then you slather them with henna paste. Then you wrap them in a plastic bag, put on some socks to keep the bag in place, and wait. And wait, and wait, and wait. (And go to bed so that most of the wait time is spent when you're sleeping anyway). In the morning you wake up and go nuts because you still have swamp feet. Then you sit some more and take off the socks, the bags, the paste, the plaster, and scrape the little bits that stuck off with a stick. This tickles like you wouldn't believe, especially in the arches. Now you have intricate orange designs on your feet and toenails. If you really want your feet to be beautiful (and I didn't, but Rachel and Danielle were in for the full spa treatment) you then rub on manyak, which has the consistency of sugar, and then put the bags back on and the socks back on and wait. And wait, and wait, and wait. And if you're lucky, the volunteer that you're staying with tries to make you pancakes that turn out OK. Not great, but OK. And after the manyak heats up (the Senegalese say let it heat up until your feet sweat), you can take off the socks and plastic bags, but then you have to let it air dry. So you wait. And when it's all dry, you can wash your beautiful, intricately decorated (now blackened, thanks to the manyak) feet. And then you rub oil on. And everyone tells you how beautiful your feet are. There's a bible verse about the beautiful feet of those who bring good news. I guess Gospel-bearers wear henna.


Song of Soloman (of Songs, which is it really?) 7.1
How beautiful your sandaled feet, O prince's daughter! Your graceful legs are like jewels, the work of a craftman's hands.

Romans 10:15 (quoting Isaiah 52.7)
And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!"

Isaiah 52.7, for a fuller quote
How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion "Your God reigns!"


In fact, our graceful legs were the work of a craftman's hands. Craftwomen, actually. My neighbors Aissatou and Mari. Two very cool ladies, co-wives, and my friends. They like to laugh, and so do I. They are very skilled in the ways of henna.

And look at us, we do proclaim peace. We bring good tidings (there is a way up from where we are). We proclaim salvation. (?) Well, that's said with some freedom. I'm sure we do in some sense, but I'm not trying to sound like I'm out here reading them my bible. We just haven't gotten to the finer points of differences in Christianity and Islam... I am working for (and acting on the behalf of) the government, after all. In any case, we have beautiful feet.

After a fun week in the village, we came back to Kolda and they continued on to Dakar for the last two months of their semester abroad. I stayed in town to welcome down the new volunteers (Welcome Emily, Jess, Meg, Darren, Dorothy, and new neighbor Mike!), as well as say goodbye to Cameron. I cried a little, quietly, while reading my book (Bridget Jones's Diary), so that no one would see. I'm very sad. Cameron always made me laugh and his absence will be felt every time I come in to Kolda. I mean, it's not like he died or anything, he just ETed. So did Patrick. (that makes 8) Thanks guys, good luck!

And now before I go, about the election, because it's sort of a big deal: I did not stay up late to hear how each state voted. I'm not even sure how thorough the BBC coverage was. I did not even go to any parties. We (Rachel and Danielle and I) checked the radio every so often and then went to bed at about 10. There was a text message that woke us up at about 4.15 to announce Obama the winner, at which point we decided that rather than try to listen to the radio just then, we'd continue sleeping for a few more hours because the news wouldn't change all that much.

Being not very politically minded or involved (I vote and have opinions, but I don't ever seek out political conversation or debate), I usually am not overly emotionally affected by things like election results. However, I did find myself a little giddy about the historical importance of the first black president-elect and surprisingly filled with hope for the future of America, and specifically American foreign policy and image. I'm not sure how my reaction would have been different if it were McCain that had won. I mean, clearly the whole "black president of America" factor would have been absent, but I think he'd make a good president too, so, there you go. I think it might have been fairly similar. Anyway, I guess I don't really have any interesting or profound contributions to the election buzz, but it happened, and I was part of it, and I hope it works out well. And if you ask me who I voted for, as a lot of people here have, I'll tell you the same I tell them:
*sharp gasp of surprise* It's a SECRET. Secret ballots!?!
The response is usually a kind of laugh which I guess you'd describe as sheepish, and the concession, "yeah, I guess you're right... but it was Obama, right?" Everytime, I'm sort of reminded of ... middle school. Senegal (slash Africa) is pleased with the turnout. We'll see if Obama can deliver what they all think he can, whatever that is.