This is going to sound harsh, so firstly I want to admit that this is a generalization of a country and by no means speaks of the individuals in Senegal, or the thoughts of the American Government or Peace Corps. That said, I came into Peace Corps because I’ve always been passionate about development work. I wanted to see what its like to try and make a change in a developing country… and I wanted to see how my life was impacted by development work. Development… After over a year of working towards that goal, I begin to wonder what the word even means…Moving forward? To what? To become westernized? To look a little bit better on the surface? Can and should an outsider come in to “develop” something what is not their own to begin with?
Last night I was laying with my Senegalese mom out on our stick bed, (our nightly ritual) watching the starts shoot across the sky, when she turned to me and said that she was going to quit selling produce at the market. “It’s not worth it” she said, “everyday, I walk into town with my bucket on my head, everyday I make about 100cfa (25cents) if I’m lucky. If I had a big table instead of a bucket, if I had enough money to buy soap, sugar, cigarettes, and candy, then I would be able to sell my produce and make more money.” I listened, starring up at the sky. Obviously, I was capable of giving my mom money for a table and the 20 or so dollars she would need to set-up her new business. But would that really help? Every person in the market has their own table in the market filled with cigarettes, sugar, and soap. Every person struggles to sell the exact same thing and complains that their lack of income is due to their lack of inventory instead of a differentiation of produce. It’s not a matter of having more to sell but knowing what to sell and how to sell it, how to save their money and what to spend it on. These concepts are all completely lost on the average woman in the market place, and as I listened to my mom I wanted to offer up all of these suggestions and more… but I didn’t. I’ve never taken a business class in my life, I know nothing about teaching even its basic principles and though I can see where my mom is failing as a business woman, I feel helpless to try to explain these concepts that I know would take years for her to actually comprehend and put into use. Last week, I heard that a girl from my environmental club was sick, so I went to her home, armed with a thermometer and my cell phone to time her heart beat. When I arrived, I barely recognized the bubbly child from my CM1 class. She looked terrible, She had lost a considerable amount of weight, her hands and feet were both blue from lack of circulation, As I listened to her shallow, quick, breathing and rapid heart beat, I knew there was nothing I could get from the local pharmacy to make her feel better. This girl had a serious heart condition and needed to get to the capital city for immediate medical attention. Once again the same feeling of helplessness; I could pay for the girl to get to a hospital in Dakar, but what would happen the next time something like this occurred and I wasn’t around to support them? The village is capable of raising enough money to get someone in her condition the help she needs, but they were waiting to see how bad she would get. In the end, I gave the girl’s father a large portion of money and told him to get the rest from other villagers. The next day both had left for the hospital. I knew the girl needed a specialist, and more care than what she would probably receive at the capital city hospital so I made some calls to a few missionaries I knew, but after that point I didn’t have much power to do anything else. Why am I writing down these incredibly depressing stories? Are you reading them and thinking that you would have done something different? I think a year ago I would have bought my mom a table, looked into getting a teacher and business class for the women in the market. Called my friends and parents in America to pay for this girl to get the kind of care that’s standard in America. Now, I know that if I set up business classes no one would attend. The women have meals to cook and other work to do. If I raised enough money to care for this one girl, the father may or may not actually spend it on his daughter’s care, and what of all the other children that die every year in my village that deserve the same kind of treatment? I’m in the middle of interviewing the top girls 3 girls from each Jr. High class for a scholarship of 50$. Each of these girls has to write an essay, get a teacher’s recommendation. The last step is for me to take a personal visit to their homes for an interview with girl and her family. Twelve girls are being interviewed. Twelve girls who have not only succeeded in passing into college from ecole (1 in 10 girls are able to pass the exam and make it to college in Linguere), but they all have excellent grades and the kind of drive that, as one teacher wrote in a recommendation; “is a tranquil force that cannot be beaten down”. I met a girl whos brothers are doing laundry and cooking (women’s work ☺) just to keep their sister in school. I met another girl who is 12 but attending 6eme, and making top grades in her class (the equivalent would be skipping close to four grades!). The worst part is, only one out of these twelve girls will be chosen for a measly 50$ scholarship. Fifty dollars will help buy the books and supplies and possibly the motivation to continue her schooling, but when I read these essays, when I meet each of these brilliant young women’s families, I know that they all deserve so, so, much more. Again, I could try to raise more money, I could even give out of my own Peace Corps allowance, but what can I do that will have a lasting impact? And what should I expect from country of Senegal? Where did this weird sense of entitlement come from that people expect me to give them gifts of buildings and money because I am a foreigner? Where did this sense of helplessness originate that families expect money and medicine to be given to them freely yet they spend their own finances on a dress for the next holiday or a cell phone? Every man will tell you that their women need to stay in school, but the school system is so corrupt its next to impossible to keep any woman or young girl in school long enough to attend University. Twelve and 13 year olds are constantly being married off right before my eyes. Development. In the end, I begin to wonder if aid agencies are more interested in that word that the country of Senegal. All of us, Peace Corps, USAID, World Vision, JICA, Hunger Project, Voice for Women, UNECEF, UNSCO, and hundred more, we come into this country to “help”. We create “projects”, broken down landmarks of another country’s idea of aid. We create “initiatives”. We throw money at the topics that seem to be the basis for death and poverty, and still there is no change. Obviously I want to see change. I live here, I’ve watched seasons and sickness, delight and devastation wind its way through the tiny trees in my desert home. I have friends here; I have a family that is just as close to me as my family in America. But I am not Senegalese, I will never be Senegalese, and I am incapable of changing a country that is not my own. A man walked up to me on the streets of Dakar and said in broken English “We are Africans, we are confused, give us money.” The perfect thesis for the western mindset of development; “they are confused, give them money.” The problem is the rest of the world, including myself; we seem to be just as confused.

So remember how you were gonna send me that awesome package, and you just never got around to it? Or you did get around to it and then you went to the post office and figured out the price of sending it was twice as much as what the contents of the package was worth?
I know, I know, its hard. I pity you.
Yeah, well now no more excuses. My parents are coming out to visit me the end of July, just a few days before my birthday (hint hint hint) and they have kindly offered to deliver any packages you want to send me. So here's thier address

Frank and Linda Valente
(but make sure to write somewhere that its for me)
123 Field Grove Ct.
East Peoria, IL
61611

this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to make me smile in Africa while still being cheap, so do it!! :)