Af-riikka

I thought of comparing a bit the different work environments I have been exposed to lately: the European Commission in Brussels, and the project Jappoo/Woomal by the Senegalese scouts where I am working at the moment in Mboro, Senegal. This post is thus dedicated to all my fellow colleagues at the Commission :) The climate conditions and surroundings are certainly different when compared to the grey skies of Brussels. There won't be a drop of rain in Mboro before June, for sure, and the daytime temperatures hover around 30 degrees – in the morning only 21-22 degrees with a bit of wind and clouds. During the 30-minute walk to work on the straight road to the center of Mboro from my house, I encounter approximately three cars, four horse or donkey carts, a few other people walking and one bicycle. Not much traffic here. This morning, for example, I passed by a woman who carried a huge pile of firewood on her head, had around a 3-year-old child on her back, and a teddy bear in her lef

I am housed in CIFOP , Centre International de Formation Pratique which is situated around 3 kilometres from the town of Mboro. CIFOP has been financed with the help of Luxemburgish scouts since 1988, and it offers its students teaching, lodging and one meal a day for 10,000 CFAs / month (around 15 euros). The fields of learning include agronomy, woodwork, metallurgy, mechanics, hairdressing and construction. I just realised yesterday that I'm living in a vocational school ("amiska" :) in Finnish), though a bit isolated from the students and their classes. My house, which is actually a studio, comprising one room and a bathroom. It's quite adorable, really, and luxurious with its own, Western-style toilet when compared to the students' rooms. The obligatory selection of flip-flops in different colours. The golden curtains are not exactly my style, but now I have already gotten used to them - and acquired yellow sheets to go with them. The view from my terrace: m

Almost a month had passed in Senegal: a lot of the time it has meant moving around, from city to another city or inside the limits of a city. Rufisque, Dakar, Fimela, Toubab Dialaw, Mboro...the time spent in various vehicles of public transport or walking would make something like 60-70 hours in total, I guess. The local transport that I used for moving inside Dakar during one week consisted mostly of blue "Dakar Dem Dikk" (= Dakar aller-retour) buses. I was proud to be able to mainly use the public transport, although it is a lot hotter and more time-consuming than taking a private taxi. Although taxis would cost something like 1,5 euros to 6 euros maximum in the Dakar city area, it feels ridiculous to pay that much when I know that a bus, 10-20 times cheaper, will also take me to my destination. My decision could have been different if I had not stayed very near of the end stop of the bus line 7. Getting into the bus with the first passengers meant that I could get a seat,

One of the moments from elementary school that I will never forget are the times when we had to bring our favourite tunes to music class and have them reviewed with the whole class: we listened to maybe 5 or 6 songs during one class, and after listening everybody gave their points from 1-10 with a short explication. Like a poor version of "Juke Box Jury" ("Levyraati") on TV where they also showed the videos made for the song. Just as a sidenote, Wikipedia tells interesting facts on this show: in the UK they showed it only between 1959-1967, 1979 and 1989-1990, whereas in Finland ( suomeksi ) we liked it so much that it went on non-stop from 1961 to 2005. A classic TV show! To get back to the topic: I remember bringing two songs to the school juke box jury, and both of them were completely demolished, both by the teacher and the other kids, with only a few exceptions, notably my friends who probably gave them better notes than they would have normally done. The othe

After spending 10 days almost exclusively in Senegalese company in a very Senegalese environment in Rufisque and central Dakar, I felt like doing something completely different and touristy, something that toubabs (white/Europeans) do. So on a Saturday morning I packed my small backbag, forgot almost everything that was necessary except sunscreen which I sort of forgot to apply later on, and headed to the Route National No. 1 which passes by Rufisque and normally takes me to the other direction, towards Dakar. With the help of asking directions from a few locals, I found the spot for direct bush taxis, one of which took me from Rufisque to Toubab Dialaw. I am evidently getting used to the local comfort standards: sitting at the furthest back seat (the 7-place taxis, Peugeot 506s have three rows, like in a family car) I was waiting for the car to get full. While the Senegalese mamas were packing their bagages and stuff in the trunk, I was wondering where the smell of fish came from, tu

"Things work, anyway", would be the very rough translation of this quote from a night watchman at the tiny hotel where I stayed during a field trip to one of the Woomal project ("Woomal" meaning "development" in Wolof, the environmental education project I'm working with) sites, in Diofior. He asked me the usual "how do you like Senegal?" question, and I replied something polite, as usual. We continued by comparing the unemployment in Senegal and in Europe (which for most people here is just one country), and chatting a bit in the dark night in the Senegalese countryside, then still with electricity, later on with almost a daily power cut. How do I like Senegal? I'm wondering if it is possible to experience all the phases of a cultural shock in two weeks, since that is how I feel. It was even somewhat surprising for me to be shocked with...all of this: beggars, heat, garbage allover, discomfort and other things I had already gotten used t

Editor's note: the text was written on Tuesday the 30th, but I was too busy or out of internet connection until now to publish it...so here it goes: I am writing this text in Casablanca while waiting for a transfer flight to take me to my final destination, Dakar. The airport is one long hall with a light-green roof, pretty cool modernistic windows, Arabic hits as background music. Most of the people here are either heading back to Europe or continuing to the Middle East, or Western and Central African destinations such as Senegal. A lot of men with long robes and beards, and a lot of very stylish women with high heels and veils. The airport has the usual selection of souvenir and tax free shops – and a Zara store with an almost too friendly service ("soyez la bienvenue! let me take your clothes to the dressing room already!") where I went for some final shopping. The airport of Casablanca. Royal Air Maroc was also the cheapest airline for flying to Dakar from Europe, but