And in the blink of an eye....

This morning I set off to try and get some semblance of work done; my goal was to have one meeting. I didn't even expect to get anything accomplished, just remind the director of the women's training center or of the Credit Mutual that I was here and could work. Before all of that, however, I went through the semi-arduous task of filling out and printing my absentee request ballot (primaries in February)! In theory it shouldn't have been that hard, but I don't have a printer. So! I went to the cyber-cafe/guy with a printer. While he was figuring out my UBS key (he wasn't clicking the right things and it took all of my will not to take the mouse from him and do it myself) we got to talking. Yes I'm from America, yes I'm learning Wolof, yes I live in Bambey, I'm actually staying for 2 years. It's about this part in the conversation that most of my female friends get marriage proposals but there's apparently something different about me and I don't get asked to be a second wife, they cut to the chase, "take me with you to America when you go." There's no woo-ing, no offers of houses in Bambey, not even no-taxes on my packages like Alyssa gets. They can tell I'm no non-sense and they cut to the chase. Knowing I couldn't be outright rude to someone who I will probably see again (aka use his printer), I tried, at first, just to joke it off and laugh. That didn't work, so I got no non-sense with him, "I can't. Only I can go back, that's the way it works, I'm only allowed to go back, I can't bring anyone with me. It's that file there, yes one page please print it." While it got him to stop asking for a trip to the US, he totally overcharged me. Don't get me wrong, I understand I was arguing over about 15cents but it's the philosophy behind it that irks me. He told me it was 200CFA so I responded with, "a photocopy was only 50CFA (I had my passport copied there a few weeks ago)" "It's not the same thing," which REALLY bothered me, while I do not know the specific technicalities of printing, I know that printing and copying on a printer/copier are practically the same thing, and, if anything, copying's gotta be more work. I continued to say "it's the same thing, I know it is," but paid my 200CFA and left.

With that behind me, I decided to stop by the women's training center (I found out the official name it's the Center for the Technical Training of Women) to try to see the director. Luckily enough she was in her office and we sat down to chat. I suggested that I could, eventually, teach a Marketing course (like she had suggested to me last week) or maybe I could just start with a conversation group of women who wanted extra practice in their English classes. She got out her course book and marked me down for three classes in "business" and, like that, I got my first job. I sat there furiously scribbling down everything she was telling me, I would be teaching women who are on the "restauranteer" track, there would be 3 classes: Monday 12:30-3:30, Tuesday 8-10,Tuesday 12:30-3:30, and in between my Tuesday classes I would sit in with the women during their cooking class so I could learn to make Senegalese food (this stemmed because I joked that if they ever needed help tasting I could do that too). And, with that, we were done. See you Monday!

I left feeling on top of the world, just like that I had work! It was going to be awesome! We were going to start with finding a good business idea and then work our way, over several weeks, through creating and managing a fake business. They were going to love me, I was going to be such a cool teacher, I would be invited over for lunch.... then the next thought hit me "oh no! I'm supposed to be teaching during lunch (1:30) my hfmom's going to be PISSED... ewww she's going to save me food every day .. gross cold rice and sauce." After I realized that that was a problem easily solved the realization of what I was doing hit and the nerves set in. I just signed up to teach a business class, in French, to women who are probably older than me, and can speak in Wolof without me understanding. Where would I actually start? How would I remember their names? Would they respect me? What would I teach? What if I couldn't explain it well enough? And the questions kept coming. I realize that it might be a rookie-peace corps mistake to jump into something like this, but, with my technical training pushed back another month, I realized that it might be time for me to start making mistakes and learning from them - if I don't start now, when will I? I'm ready to start taking chances if it means getting to actually try and start work.

I'm a planner, however, and so I calmed myself with the thought that I could spend the next few days making highly detailed lesson plans that, while they would probably fall through and not happen as planned, would be a start. I also realized that any calmness of mind would help, so I stopped by the church to ask what time mass is on Sunday and on Christmas Eve. Yeah, I'm not really Catholic anymore but it'll be nice to be around the drums and singing, anyway, I'm curious if they'll sing Christmas carols I know.

After talking to the priest I went to the post office to mail my ballot request as well as a few other things. Even though there were still a handful of retirees waiting to pick up money, I was able to get into the office and go to the other window (not the Western Union window where everything was going on), buy my stamps and pick up my packages.

I walked home still with mixed feelings of excitement and nerves. When I got back I told my hfmom that I would be teaching a class and she didn't throw a fit about lunch like I thought but I'm guessing it'll have to be revisited Monday. I went upstairs to open my boxes to find food, reading material (NY Magazines and an NYU newspaper), as well as some fabulous early-birthday gifts and a "happy birthday" banner from Amy (thanks Amy and AS for the packages).

The rest of my day was mostly uneventful, I went for a bike ride and we had "my dish" (as my hf calls it now) aka beans for dinner! Yum! Nothing digging into a big plate of beans with bread and your (right) hand to end the day!

Ba suba,
KO