Too Beautiful a Night - 13 October 2003

     On October 3, 2003 in the village of Goundaga, Senegal,
the night was the most beautiful that I have seen in my
entire life. I mean the sky was crystal clear, the stars
were twinkling and it included a half-moon. It was starting to
change from the rainy season to the dry season. During the
rainy season it was quite rare to get a cloudless sky and in
fact we didn't see the stars a whole lot.

     Usually every night I eat in the back of my hut with
my village counterpart (named - Demba Balde) at about
9 o'clock. What I usually do is place my plastic chairs
out in the back an hour earlier and just sit back and
watch the sky and listen to the sounds of the village.
Like usual Demba arrives and we sit and start talking.
About 15 minutes later Demba's wife (Fatumata)
arrives and says that the child of the next door family
is sick and needs medicine. We don't have much other
than antibiotics, bandages ... etc. But we head over
there and we see this 3 week old baby being held by
this matron from the other village. We can
see that the baby has a fever (and they had the baby
covered in a quilted blanket) and is breathing a little
labored. So the lady opens the blanket and I almost
dropped as all I saw on the baby was a covering of
these little pus spots and I mean covered. Ok ... what
do you do with bandages and antibiotic cream? Well,
we knew to uncover the baby to cool him off. So we do
that ... tell them to give the baby water (even though it is
not recommended here because the baby could get
diarrhea ... etc.) but the baby wasn't nursing. So ... we
leave to get treated water ( I have some in my hut ).
As we walk out I tell Demba "let's go to the health
clinic I have money we can buy whatever we need".
He says that it is Friday night and that the nurse that
is the only one capable, is not there. Also that there is
no way to get a vehicle up there at this time of the
night (it is almost impossible in the day time as the
road has been washed out by the rains). If we took
a charrette it would take about 2 hours and still ...
no one would be there. We could go to the big hospital
but that would be about a 6 to 7 hour journey.
Also, we would have to override the village matron,
which may have big ramifications later on.

   So Demba says all we can do is wait till tomorrow
and we can see what we can do. But in the meantime,
we bring the treated water back and the matron gives
him (named Boubacar also) a tablespoon of water. A
minute later the baby made a little better than subtle
convulsive move and I knew that wasn't good. After the
drink the matron moved the baby to lay him down and
as she did his head just dropped back like there was
no life and his big black eyes were vacant. I will always
remember those eyes. So we leave ... as there is nothing
more that we know to do.

    As I walked away I just thought - Lord ... gives us this
one night ... give us a chance. It was a numbing period
before I went to sleep.

    The next morning at 7 a.m. Demba comes to the door and
says that at 1 p.m. little Boubacar died. We just sat
silently in my hut for a half hour and I have to say that it
was the first time in my life I had not one thought.

    What we did was go to the village/city (1000 people)
and had to cancel a soccer game that we had scheduled
for that day. I then went to Tom's (Peace Corps Volunteer)
village to talk. But before that I gave Demba some
money to buy some good food for the family. Like meat, onions,
rice (meat is a rare thing) oh yeah ... also beans.

    I was really taking my time going back to the village as
I felt like I needed to chill a little. But at about 2 in the
afternoon I return. I am not feeling any better than in the
morning when I left. As I get back in the village I see that
life is just going along ... I am like devastated and the
people are just going on with life. I had to think a little
... why is it like this? And I came up with this ...
The people in the village only know that children die
and people die of malaria and that there isn't a lot
of money to go to the doctors or if they have a little
they keep it for food.

    And in there lies the reason why I was so affected
by little Boubacar's death. I know different ... I know there
is a such thing as 911 ... I know that there are staffed
hospitals and health coverage and all the other things
that made seeing little Boubacar die so frustrating.
It is hard to live in a moment of helplessness.

    Yes, there are many things that probably could have
been done and things that should have been done earlier.
But when the resources aren't quite there and the money
and the education and the feeling that there is something
that can actually be done  .... ?????

    So ... during the day Boubacar's father comes to thank
me for giving the food and he came with someone else
because he couldn't speak and the other guy says that
the father wanted to say thank you. Also another thing
that I have held off to mention is that 2 months ago, this
same father's 2 yr old son died of malaria.

    I had a hard time looking him in the eye as I felt that
as me being from the developed world ... I felt guilty that
people there have a lot and the people here don't have
quite as much.

    But my opinion of that night was that it was too
beautiful a night to die ... for anyone to die for that
matter. I know that the world doesn't stop ... but I know
that the mind can be a powerful thing and I don't want
to believe that there was the death of a little child from
Africa on that beautiful night.

   So instead ... I am going to think this ...

Little Boubacar did what any curious child would
do ... he left to touch the stars and walk hand in
hand with Mr. Moon and that he just lost his way
back home.

Paul
Senegal
West Africa

Sometimes the good guys win - 25 Nov 2003

    If you remember the story click here of little

Boubacar the 3 week old baby that

died on that beautiful night. We have

learned since then that he died from

an infection.

    To help prevent this from happening

again I have told the people that in the

US it is the custom to bring mother and

baby to the doctors after 2 weeks for a

check up. Of course the people here

aren’t apt to do it and a lack of money

is usually part of the problem. Also a

need to instill in the people that it is

something that should be done is

necessary.

    The custom here is that a week after

a baby is born (7 days exactly) they have

a naming ceremony called a ‘deneboo’.

Where they kill a goat and people may

give presents.

    There were 2 babies born on the

same day. So I told the parents that

I would give them money for the deneboo

only after they brought the kids for their

checkups.

    They did and it was a good thing that

they did as both babies had the same

infection little Boubacar had. The cost

of the antibiotics was about $8.35 and

they didn’t have the money. So I ended

up lending it to them which is really

more like a gift. A lot of people in the

development gig would call this

unsustainable. But I figure you can’'t

sustain anything that is dead.

    Yesterday as we were shucking a

mound of corn for storage and after

shucking for about 4 hours I look over

and see one of the babies (a girl) as

she’s laying on a mat with her mother

just making noises and kicking her arms

and legs as healthy as can be.

    It made me sit back in my chair put

my hands under my chin and think of the

last line of Louis ‘Satchmo’ Armstrong’s

1925 song. “ And I say to myself what

a wonderful world Ohh Yeahh”.

Paul

Senegal

West Africa

Man re-hydrates then impersonates the Energizer Bunny - 25 Nov 2003

   A major part of Ramadan is the fasting

that goes from about 6 a.m. till around

6:30 p.m.. There is no food or beverages.

It is pretty hot here and you can see by the

afternoon people are pretty washed out. I

can say through my own experience ( I am 

also fasting) that going without food is not 

anywhere as difficult as going without water.

   Mr. Amadou Diao, brother of the 'Jackass 

who ate the corn' post's Demba usually passes 

by my hut in the afternoon to chat. After 2 weeks

into Ramadan, Amadou drops by, literally, I

mean he is tired and has about zero

energy. In our Peace Training we are taught about

oral re-hydration salts and if we don’t have

that we can make a mixture of sugar, salt in a

liter of water as a basic solution. I had been

preaching about making the mix and

drinking it every night when we break the

fast. No one was taking heed so I decided

to make a pail ( about 14 liters ) of this

mixture. So I told Amadou to come by

after the fuduro (name of the prayer time

that breaks the fast). I gave a liter of the

mix and after an hour he tells me he is

feeling pretty good. Also his headache

has gone away (one of the first symptoms

of dehydration).

    Next day he comes by in the afternoon,

he arrives at the usual time 3 p.m. 

but this time he is on his bicycle and he

has his axe and machete and says that

he is going out in the bush to cut some wood.

It was really a remarkable transformation. I saw his

wife later on and she asked what I gave

Amadou to drink. She said she hasn’'t seen him

this energized since their wedding night.

    Since then the word has gotten out and

almost the whole village is on to the mix.

At the health center in the nearest town

there are people from other villages lining 

up for intravenous. But with the miracle 

re-hydration mix in Goundaga we have 

people going out to cut wood.

    

As far as I know Amadou is still going

and going.

Jackass that ate the corn - 25 Nov 2003

    A week ago early in the morning

while I was watering the garden Mr.

Demba Diao walked by like usual and

as is the custom of the Pulaar people,

greeted me with a cheery good morning.

Fifteen minutes later he comes storming

back and he wasn't very happy. Every

morning he walks out and inspects his

corn and watermelon fields. What had

happened during the night was that a

donkey got loose and ate a whole bunch

of his corn. Here, from August till January

everyone has to keep his animals on a

rope or under control. This is dictated

by the village Jarga (chief in the Pulaar language). 

The reason being to protect the crops.

    Well Demba my counterpart comes back, very

unhappily and says "A donkey ate a

whole section of corn in my field".

the whole village is up in arms as no

one knows or wants to admit which donkey

it was.I was perplexed to understand how he

knew it was a donkey. He said he could

tell by the droppings ... there were donkey

droppings and not cow or goat deposits.

What happens if they know who was

the bonehead who didn't tie up the animal

properly then they are responsible for

the damage. Till this day no one has

come forth with any information to the

where abouts of this jackass who eats

other people's corn in the night.

    Here is the description, face of a

donkey, gray complexion with a black

stripe running over the back from front

leg to front leg. Also about 4 ft. tall and

probably answers to the word 'baaba'

which means donkey in Pulaar. I would

imagine that it has a pretty big stomach

seeing as there was a lot of corn missing.

If you have any information regarding the

whereabouts of this corn-eating jackass

please call us at 1-800-Goundaga. We

can't give you any reward money cause

the jackass ate the corn he was going

to sell. But it would make Mr. Diao happy

and lay to rest the mystery.