Blake returns to cyberspace! At last!

Hey everybody,
Sorry it’s been so long since my last post—it’s been a really busy two weeks and I’m still adjusting to my schedule, trying to find good times to write. I have class from 8:30 to 6:00 everyday, then I head directly home to my host family, the Diallos, and spend time eating and talking with them, so I don’t have a lot of extra alone time in my life right now. With the onset of Ramadan, however, I now have a solid block of free time in the middle of the day, formerly known as “lunchtime,” and writing helps distract me from daydreams of milkshakes and stuffed crust pizza.
The program is going really well so far—the other students are interesting people, classes are going well (although Wolof is really difficult—it’s hard to learn a language when you have absolutely no familiar sounds or word roots to latch onto), and I love my family. I have a really sweet mother, or “Yaay” in Wolof, a nephew named Mohammad who has more reckless energy than any other one-year-old on the face of the planet, three sisters, and four brothers. I share a room with one particular brother named Karim, who is a pretty interesting character—he has no formal job, per se, but at different times I have seen him get paid to do each of the following things: selling cell phones, yard work, arranging the affairs of two overweight French businessmen who are going to a village in eastern Senegal to buy large quantities of gold (this one is pretty shady), selling coconuts, dealing stereo equipment, distributing large quantities of bananas from Côte d’Ivoire, selling boubous (traditional Senegalese clothing worn by men), trading in parts for motorbikes, selling video cameras, and running courier services for local businesses. He also plans to assemble the first collection of crossword puzzles in Wolof and sell them to newspapers and schools. He is coming and going constantly, but he is one of the most dynamic, charismatic people I’ve ever met, and we’re having a lot of fun together, although our sleeping schedules rarely align (he usually comes to bed about an hour before I wake up in the morning).
My host mother is very lovely as well. She’s widowed, but really fills the house with a loving, motherly presence. She lectures me about caring for my own mother, telling me that Americans don’t know how to honor their parents—but at least we’re not as bad as the French, who “don’t even care if their mother dies.” She is very funny and she’s especially proud of me for fasting.
The Ramadan fast has been a wonderful discovery. I love the sense of familial closeness it brings to our house—as the hour to break the fast approaches, everybody gathers together to wait, and afterwards we spend the night together, eating and drinking. During the day, there is a sense of austere piousness in the streets—people are warm and friendly, but mannerisms are more reserved. At night, however, the mood is jovial and festive. Fasting is pretty tough, but it gets easier each day. Going without water is harder than going without food, especially in the heat.
Unfortunately, I just found out that the only other boy in my program has decided to return home—he’s not feeling well and he’s been having a really hard time adjusting to the new culture…which leaves me the lone vestige of manhood among eighteen students.
Ok, sorry this post is kind of a brusque summary—I’ll try to keep the blog more up-to-date, with more detailed and interesting posts, from now on. Take care!