Return to Fass

Homecoming.  Of sorts.  I havent posted in some time, and I have no good excuse.  South America was just too much fun to recount, I guess.  Anyways I hope to be posting regularly again, from now until March.  But the real homecoming was going back to Fass Toucouleur, Senegal.

I was a bit nervous going back to Fass, my home in Senegal for two years.  After 4 years away, to be going back to a place that was as instructive and developmentally important as college, was strange.  I was nervous and unsure how I would be received.  I knew this place was important to me, but how did they feel about me?  Would I be warmly embraced, or would it be, as I feared, a kindof Oh nice to see you, blasse sort of affair.  So I took a car down to the road town 5k away and called my host father to see if he would pick me up on his horse cart.  he said just tale a mototaxi.  Moto?  There are motos here? One of the many things that had changed in 4 years.  So i run into some people i know who arent sure they remember me, some eventually did some did not.  Many more thought i was this kid, Peter, who had returned or had never left.  Peter was a volunteer in the Wolof village next to Fass who just finished his service last month.  There are now like 4 volunteers in the nearby area including the village that is only a half a kilometer away.  A new one comes in a month.  When did my region get all these volunteers?  So I grabbed a moto, which is an absolute blast.  Cruising through the countryside on a motocycle cant be beat.

As we pull up a dozen of so kids playing soccer on the field come running after me screaming Amadou Ba Amadou Ba!  Amadou Ba Artii!  Brad came back. Amadou Ba is my Senegalese name.  We pull up to my familys compound and I see dozens and dozens of children waiting for me.  They flood me.  One of my best friends is waiting there and comes out to greet me. I paid the driver who is laughing and completely confused, and I walked into the compound.  There was, no joke, 50 maybe more people standing there banging on pots and pans singing and dancing Amadou ba artii Amaadou ba artii!  Like a quarter of the village is in the compund waiting for me, singing, dancing, and everyone is soooo happy.  I couldnt handle it.  Tears started streaming down my face as everyone came up to greet me and take my bags and say hello.  Abdul Diere Ba, my host father, had the biggest grin I could ever remember him wearing.  I sat down and had some sugary drink and the party continued for another half hour.  I felt so at home once again.  It was amazing.  It felt the same, it felt slightly different.  I hadnt hoped it would feel this good being back.

The 10 day stay was as good as I could have imagined.  Only two  hiccups.  One my host brother who i sent money to so he could come back to the ville for the first time in three years, was still not there.  We arranged for me to send him money using a money transfer service, he told me had an id card, and so i sent the money.  Turns out the service i sent it through does not exist in his town.  So a buddy and I went to kaolack, the biggest city nearby, and sent it through another service. I called my host brither to inform him.  He doesnt have an id.  But you told me you have an id? So i go back and change the order for his friend.  But his friends name turns out not to be the one he gave me but another one.  So i went back a third time and at this point the service was giving me a really hard time for being an idiot, I couldnt argue, but explained what happened and then he starts going off on illiteracy being a problem in this country.  Couldnt agree more.  My host brother eventually made it a few days later much to the relief of his worried mother.  Second hiccup, I had a terrible time remembering everyones name and they made fun of me for it.  Opps.

I spent the mornings sleeping in, drinking coffee and chatting the women, and then going out to check the fields and some of my old work.  It was the end of the rainy season and the men and boys were harvesting the millet, one of the most important staple crops.  The PCV who came after me, Jen, and the neighboring volunteer, Peter, did fantastic work.  Jen had a library built (my old hut), a cover for the well, as well as latrines for the school.  Im most impressed with the tree work done by Peter and Jen. One of the farmers is now an amazing tree guy, grafting fruit trees, and selling them in the region. His tree garden is the envy of the ville.  In fact, peace corps thinks it is so good they bring villagers and volunteers from around the country to see it as an example of what can be done.  And the farmer is being paid to go places and teach people.  It is truely remarkable.  We were talking in his field about how when I was a volunteer we had no idea what we were doing but we were planting trees and doing the best we could.  Its cool to see someone who I helped usher into agroforestry is now an expert and just doing wonderful things.  A few other farmers are doing some tree work, though not to the same extent.  My host father being an example.  Its also a funny feeling to go around fields and see trees I planted now huge and serving their purpose.

But without a doubt, my legacy is the milling machine.  Everyone and their mother, actually mostly their mothers, have told me how imprtant that machine is to them and how much they thank me.  I am surprised.  I wasnt thinking me enduring image in the village would be the machine, but so it is.  The machine is without a doubt a huge success.  It runs every morning and night.  People come neighboring villages to use it.  There is a set price per kilo and it is collected and accounted for.  A man runs the machine, he is paid, and than a neighbor woman collects the money, counts it, records it, and at night brings it to Abdul Deire Ba.  Abdul recounts it, confirms and then goes about filling out the date and the amount of money collected, as well as the balance.  He records when they buy gas and when the pay for fixes to the machine.  Its an amazing machine.  Each time it breaks they have money on hand to fix it.  Im blown away.

So now I am in Guinea, and I have a story or two I would like to recount, but not now.  I am tried, and it is my birthday, so I am going to get a beer.  Cheers!