Friday, July 9, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
And we are back!
We arrived yesterday at SFO a little after 1 pm happy to see our family and friends waiting for us at the exit. It felt great to see all your enthusiasm at our arrival!
Prepare yourself for numerous stories about our adventures to Senegal and dozens of photos. Please remember or remind your traveling kids to post their trip photos on the online gallery at:
That way we can share with each other all the great pictures we took and create the ultimate collection of photos.
Thank you to all the parents for your support on our decision to go on this trip of a lifetime and for all your contribution in our preparation to leave! And special thanks to all the Lick and Drew teachers and adult group members who helped organize and create such a wonderful trip!
Hope the blog has kept you all updated as we tried our hardest to give you a taste of our experience while in Africa.
Enjoy the rest of your summer :)
Prepare yourself for numerous stories about our adventures to Senegal and dozens of photos. Please remember or remind your traveling kids to post their trip photos on the online gallery at:
That way we can share with each other all the great pictures we took and create the ultimate collection of photos.
Thank you to all the parents for your support on our decision to go on this trip of a lifetime and for all your contribution in our preparation to leave! And special thanks to all the Lick and Drew teachers and adult group members who helped organize and create such a wonderful trip!
Hope the blog has kept you all updated as we tried our hardest to give you a taste of our experience while in Africa.
Enjoy the rest of your summer :)
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Goree Island
Anya:
Here's another journal entry, that I wrote mere minutes ago! How tantalizingly exciting!
"Happy 4th of July!
I spent the day of American independence on Goree Island, which was the busiest, most bustling slave-exportation island from 1776 to 1848 (some irony there, no?). We took a ferry from Dakar to Goree Island, and upon first glance, it looked very pretty -- somewhat quaint, and cleaner than many of the places we've seen.
After eating lunch and avoiding the swarms of optimistic vendors trying to sell us trinkets and T-shirts, we walked over to the "Maison de Esclaves" (House of Slaves). What a sneakily, unexpectedly intense experience. I walked through the dim, muggy, cement hallways, knowing that my footprints retraced those of millions of African slaves before me. My eyes scanned the rooms as I imagined men, women and children sitting or squatting or squishing while chains squeezed their necks and ankles.
As I walked upstairs to living space for the masters, I imagined the stench of body odor and opportunistic diseases that those white men inhaled everyday. What noises did they hear? Did they hear the muted pounding of fists against cement, as the "recalcitrants" (misbehavors) protested in vain, or had they learned to shut out such tell-tale signs of humanity? Could they even see the faces of the young girls they would later rape, or did the blackness of those slaves' skin simply make them blend into one blurry, dark mass? Did they feel any of the bitterness or poignancy or rage the slaves felt as they walked out the door -- into the oddly picturesque sunlight, towards the Americas, away from Africa? No, probably not. Somehow I doubt that any of the five senses were directed towards thoughts like these.
It's one thing to see pictures of a slave house, and entirely different thing to walk through the halls yourself. The combination of the humidity and the history left me feeling a bit physically ill, and somewhat lacking in my faith for humanity. However, I'm still glad we went there; there's no other way the grotesqueness of the Atlantic Slave Trade could have really hit home like it did there.
After the slave house, we toured the rest of Goree Island. Turns out the school for the smartest kids in Senegal is on Goree Island. Isn't it kind of cool that what was once the slave capital of West Africa is now the ultimate education hub? That thought made me feel better about how omnipresent the tourist industry is on Goree Island. We just took the ferry back and are now at the hotel. Farewell for now!"
Here's another journal entry, that I wrote mere minutes ago! How tantalizingly exciting!
"Happy 4th of July!
I spent the day of American independence on Goree Island, which was the busiest, most bustling slave-exportation island from 1776 to 1848 (some irony there, no?). We took a ferry from Dakar to Goree Island, and upon first glance, it looked very pretty -- somewhat quaint, and cleaner than many of the places we've seen.
After eating lunch and avoiding the swarms of optimistic vendors trying to sell us trinkets and T-shirts, we walked over to the "Maison de Esclaves" (House of Slaves). What a sneakily, unexpectedly intense experience. I walked through the dim, muggy, cement hallways, knowing that my footprints retraced those of millions of African slaves before me. My eyes scanned the rooms as I imagined men, women and children sitting or squatting or squishing while chains squeezed their necks and ankles.
As I walked upstairs to living space for the masters, I imagined the stench of body odor and opportunistic diseases that those white men inhaled everyday. What noises did they hear? Did they hear the muted pounding of fists against cement, as the "recalcitrants" (misbehavors) protested in vain, or had they learned to shut out such tell-tale signs of humanity? Could they even see the faces of the young girls they would later rape, or did the blackness of those slaves' skin simply make them blend into one blurry, dark mass? Did they feel any of the bitterness or poignancy or rage the slaves felt as they walked out the door -- into the oddly picturesque sunlight, towards the Americas, away from Africa? No, probably not. Somehow I doubt that any of the five senses were directed towards thoughts like these.
It's one thing to see pictures of a slave house, and entirely different thing to walk through the halls yourself. The combination of the humidity and the history left me feeling a bit physically ill, and somewhat lacking in my faith for humanity. However, I'm still glad we went there; there's no other way the grotesqueness of the Atlantic Slave Trade could have really hit home like it did there.
After the slave house, we toured the rest of Goree Island. Turns out the school for the smartest kids in Senegal is on Goree Island. Isn't it kind of cool that what was once the slave capital of West Africa is now the ultimate education hub? That thought made me feel better about how omnipresent the tourist industry is on Goree Island. We just took the ferry back and are now at the hotel. Farewell for now!"
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Mbour Day 3
We have been in Mbour for 3 nights and 2 days. The group is having so much fun on the beach especially since the village was probably one of the most difficult experiences of any of our lives (and the complete opposite of a tropical paradise). Nonetheless, Mbour is beautiful, it's the tourist capital of Senegal meaning that we have been bombarded by locals trying to sell us their overpriced goods and services, but despite all of that it has been quite relaxing. The beach is excellent and the food, superb. However, Mbour has not just been lounging around and eating mangoes while watching Maren attempt to peel a banana with her feet, the days have been busy. Today and yesterday we visited an orphanage, and while we were there the group played with babies ranging from a few months to about three years old. The minute I walked into the room adorable little babies literally ran into my arms trying to get picked up. But it was not as upsetting as I expected it to be, the kids are obviously well taken care of and the room was constantly filled with laughter and play. Then this afternoon we went to a village about an hour away from Mbour, and hung out at a mango farm that belongs to Youssou, who is a teacher at Lick. It was pretty awesome, but unfortunately I was unable to find any ripe mangoes there.
I have posted a nice, little video of Ethan dancing at a festival in the village called, "Le Faux Lion". The performers would pick out random "Toubabs" in the crowd and bring them out to the center to dance for the forty plus people who paid 100 CFAs to get in.
We have also had many people taking pictures so feel free to check them out at:
http://picasaweb.google.com/113671569896356801963
And for those of you who actually want to hear my personal opinion about the trip thus far I will give it to you. I am absolutely in love with this trip, not because I am living in the lap of luxury, but because almost everywhere I go I see something that rivets me. I think that it's experiences like this that make people question the purpose of their existence, as complicated and perhaps pointless as that may be. My African family spoke to me a lot about how impoverished their community is, and how envious they were of me because I come from a place that is blindly centered around wealth. And every time they brought it up, I explained to them that although excessive amounts of money is fairly ubiquitous, Americans don't have anywhere near the same amount of purpose as the people here do. I think that at home we wake to "succeed", but here they wake to just breathe. I feel that at home success is constantly defined by how much money you have made at your job, but here money means nothing if you have no one to share your wealth with. My family did absolutely everything in their power to make me as comfortable and content as possible, even if that meant they would have significantly less than me. I had never believed in true selflessness before this trips, but that's it, and as corny as it sounds, it's beautiful.
In any event, for those of you going through an identity crisis at this point in time, go to a place like this, and I can promise you that you'll come back with a complete understanding of who you are.
I have posted a nice, little video of Ethan dancing at a festival in the village called, "Le Faux Lion". The performers would pick out random "Toubabs" in the crowd and bring them out to the center to dance for the forty plus people who paid 100 CFAs to get in.
We have also had many people taking pictures so feel free to check them out at:
http://picasaweb.google.com/113671569896356801963
And for those of you who actually want to hear my personal opinion about the trip thus far I will give it to you. I am absolutely in love with this trip, not because I am living in the lap of luxury, but because almost everywhere I go I see something that rivets me. I think that it's experiences like this that make people question the purpose of their existence, as complicated and perhaps pointless as that may be. My African family spoke to me a lot about how impoverished their community is, and how envious they were of me because I come from a place that is blindly centered around wealth. And every time they brought it up, I explained to them that although excessive amounts of money is fairly ubiquitous, Americans don't have anywhere near the same amount of purpose as the people here do. I think that at home we wake to "succeed", but here they wake to just breathe. I feel that at home success is constantly defined by how much money you have made at your job, but here money means nothing if you have no one to share your wealth with. My family did absolutely everything in their power to make me as comfortable and content as possible, even if that meant they would have significantly less than me. I had never believed in true selflessness before this trips, but that's it, and as corny as it sounds, it's beautiful.
In any event, for those of you going through an identity crisis at this point in time, go to a place like this, and I can promise you that you'll come back with a complete understanding of who you are.
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