We went to the big American Halloween party and partook in the trick-or-treating. I didn't think that Gusi would know about scary things but he freaked out when he saw some of the masks and costumes. We had to work real hard to make him understand that these were all children dressed up. I hope he understood!?! In any event I feel terrible that he was scared.
He did enjoy getting the glow sticks that the Boy Scouts were selling as well as walking around the pool which was lit up at night.
Perhaps next year we'll skip this party so he isn't completely traumatized.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Halloween Woes
I'm anticipating that Halloween will be a bit of a nightmare. Actually, I'm anticipating that wearing his cute Halloween costume will be a bit of a nightmare. Gusi is supposed to be a cowboy, but I don't see him keeping his hat on, or his lasso, or his bandanna, or his vest, and probably even ripping off his chaps. The scene that plays in my head is that he will ask for candy wearing nothing but the arm band that kids need to wear in order to go trick-or-treating, his jeans, shirt and possibly the spurs, as well as his Halloween flash light and trick-or-treating bag.
It was so much easier last year when I just zipped him up in a leopard costume and that was it. As long as I get him to keep the costume on long enough to snap a few pictures I'll consider it a success.
It was so much easier last year when I just zipped him up in a leopard costume and that was it. As long as I get him to keep the costume on long enough to snap a few pictures I'll consider it a success.
Worn Out
I've realized that Gusi sleeps better at nap time if he's gone outside and done some running around. He likes to "help" our gardener when he can. Today Gusi "worked" quite a bit by watering the plants, grass and vegetable garden. Then he helped sweep up the water that had spilled over. He practically fell asleep as he ate his lunch. I had to still change his diaper before putting him down, but he was snoozed during the entire process. And now, he sleeps.
We'll have to do more gardening again tomorrow!
We'll have to do more gardening again tomorrow!
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Doucement
One of the words you hear all the ex-pat moms say to their kids in French is doucement which can mean softly or gently. This is the word of wisdom our gardener gave me as he tried to direct me out our garage for the first time. I was so nervous with the Prado but managed. I've now done it several times. There isn't much to it as long as our gardener helps me. Gusi, luckily, just sits in his car seat, happy to be going somewhere. I enjoy the quiet he provides me as well.
Doucement I will learn more about life in this new country, including how to drive around it.
Doucement I will learn more about life in this new country, including how to drive around it.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Wheels
Our car is sitting in the garage at this very moment. Our car! It's brand new and there are still a few things that we didn't realize would be missing. For example, the spare tire cover and the floor mats. We will search around and try to get them soon.
Trying to drive a much bigger car than what we had before will be part of the learning curve. The Toyota Prado we have is quite popular in town but I didn't realize it had a 48 gallon tank!!! At least it's a diesel engine so it's a bit cheaper than gas, but still, I didn't know it was going to be so big. That is a lot of fuel, but then again, the car does weigh almost two tons.
The Prado has that new car smell and Gusi's seat is already in thanks to PapaGus. Tomorrow we will be able to drive. Just amazing.
Trying to drive a much bigger car than what we had before will be part of the learning curve. The Toyota Prado we have is quite popular in town but I didn't realize it had a 48 gallon tank!!! At least it's a diesel engine so it's a bit cheaper than gas, but still, I didn't know it was going to be so big. That is a lot of fuel, but then again, the car does weigh almost two tons.
The Prado has that new car smell and Gusi's seat is already in thanks to PapaGus. Tomorrow we will be able to drive. Just amazing.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Mama-itis
It's not just because he's been sick, it's just his newest trend. Gusi now has Mama-itis: an acute onset of needing to be in his Mama's arms without warning but with plenty of screaming. He needs to see me at all times, has to have me next to him at a moment's notice and will throw a fit if I'm not around. The tide has changed. PapaGus has been dethroned. I think he's going through what I was going through a few months ago: feeling like you've been tossed away like an old shoe. Gusi only wants to sit in my lap. If his father tries to set his hand down on my arm or Gusi's leg, Gusi shoves it off and protests. His mama. Only.
While this was cute for a few days, it is now most definitely not. I am not even permitted to go to the bathroom by myself and my showers have moved to night time after he's gone to bed so I can shower in peace. We've been like this for a few weeks and it looks like it will be a while longer. I really think getting out and about after these days of illness and weeks without transportation will help matters. I hope the dealership doesn't take too long with our car.
While this was cute for a few days, it is now most definitely not. I am not even permitted to go to the bathroom by myself and my showers have moved to night time after he's gone to bed so I can shower in peace. We've been like this for a few weeks and it looks like it will be a while longer. I really think getting out and about after these days of illness and weeks without transportation will help matters. I hope the dealership doesn't take too long with our car.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
I Don't Like This Part
I love being a mother. Being Gusi's mom and PapaGus' wife is the best package deal there is out there; I can't imagine being happy without either of them. However, there are parts to this gig that I really don't like. One example is dealing with a sick Gusi.
Last week Gusi was sick with a fever and runny nose. A virus the doctor said. Ok. After he spent the week recovering and getting better he started to develop a cough on Thursday and ran a fever on Friday. His fevers were high, very high and he wasn't getting better with the pain relievers we were giving him. We saw the doctor again Saturday morning, he checked Gusi's ears and said there was a small red spot in one ear, but otherwise he was ok. That night he had his highest fever yet: 103.1 degrees. We called the doctor again and PapaGus said he wanted to do a blood smear to find out if it was malaria that was causing the fevers.
So, just after midnight we climb into a cab to go all the way downtown to the Plateau--the center of town--to search for the 24-hour lab that can do a blood smear for malaria. The ride was incredible for all three of us. Dakar is such a lively city and at night it shows on every street corner. Gusi was excited to see the lighthouse lit up, the planes flying overhead, the moon and the stars. Even though he was miserable, he was so excited to be in a car, driving around at night.
When we finally found the lab we were the only ones there. We filled out some paperwork and were seen almost immediately. They found Gusi's vein without any problem, got the blood and did a QBC test for malaria. We waited in the lobby with a scary movie playing on the tv (I had to ask them to change the channel since Gusi was watching it). Finally they came back: negative. Thank goodness, the best $22 I've spent to fail a test. We got in the cab and came home but the fevers continued through the night.
Today we went back to the doctor's and now he saw an ear infection. Gusi is on the equivalent of acetaminophen and ibuprofen as well as antibiotics. He is tired. We are tired. He is cranky. We are worried. He is getting better a little bit at a time. We are aware that while malaria is preventable and curable, it kills a child every 30 seconds, most of them in Africa. He is smiling. We will take an ear infection over malaria any day.
No one told me it would be easy but I didn't expect to hate this part of parenthood so much. Rocking my son in my arms while he cries to me in pain just doesn't seem fair or pleasant or enough. The bitter may serve to savor the sweet but this is the most bitter part of parenthood so far. Bring on the sweet.
Last week Gusi was sick with a fever and runny nose. A virus the doctor said. Ok. After he spent the week recovering and getting better he started to develop a cough on Thursday and ran a fever on Friday. His fevers were high, very high and he wasn't getting better with the pain relievers we were giving him. We saw the doctor again Saturday morning, he checked Gusi's ears and said there was a small red spot in one ear, but otherwise he was ok. That night he had his highest fever yet: 103.1 degrees. We called the doctor again and PapaGus said he wanted to do a blood smear to find out if it was malaria that was causing the fevers.
So, just after midnight we climb into a cab to go all the way downtown to the Plateau--the center of town--to search for the 24-hour lab that can do a blood smear for malaria. The ride was incredible for all three of us. Dakar is such a lively city and at night it shows on every street corner. Gusi was excited to see the lighthouse lit up, the planes flying overhead, the moon and the stars. Even though he was miserable, he was so excited to be in a car, driving around at night.
When we finally found the lab we were the only ones there. We filled out some paperwork and were seen almost immediately. They found Gusi's vein without any problem, got the blood and did a QBC test for malaria. We waited in the lobby with a scary movie playing on the tv (I had to ask them to change the channel since Gusi was watching it). Finally they came back: negative. Thank goodness, the best $22 I've spent to fail a test. We got in the cab and came home but the fevers continued through the night.
Today we went back to the doctor's and now he saw an ear infection. Gusi is on the equivalent of acetaminophen and ibuprofen as well as antibiotics. He is tired. We are tired. He is cranky. We are worried. He is getting better a little bit at a time. We are aware that while malaria is preventable and curable, it kills a child every 30 seconds, most of them in Africa. He is smiling. We will take an ear infection over malaria any day.
No one told me it would be easy but I didn't expect to hate this part of parenthood so much. Rocking my son in my arms while he cries to me in pain just doesn't seem fair or pleasant or enough. The bitter may serve to savor the sweet but this is the most bitter part of parenthood so far. Bring on the sweet.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
PINCH ME!
I can't believe it. Today PapaGus called to tell me that our car was here. Huh? It's here? After being sans wheels for almost seven weeks, our car is here? After a brief mix up got resolved, PapaGus drove home in our new car which will go to the dealer next week to install everything. All knobs and lights haven't been put in yet, nor has the spare tire so they will do that at the dealership. Then there's the issue of our plates and our papers: insurance papers, registration papers, permit papers, etc. In Senegal we have a list of about seven documents that we need to keep with the car at all times so while the car's at the dealership we'll have time to get all these together.
When the car was successfully parked inside the garage Gusi just smiled at it. He was happier to see his dad home from work but he did dig the car. In just another week he'll be sitting in his car seat in his new car.
Now I can start to worry about driving around town in this crazy traffic. This is the finish line of the Dakar Rally after all!
Monday, October 15, 2007
Must Remember Sunscreen
As I look around at some of the ex-pats that have been here for several years now, I consistently notice one thing: bad skin. So many people look so much older than they actually are. They have enjoyed the beaches, some have learned how to dive, others how to play tennis outdoors and even more have just lounged around the pool and their skin is paying the price.
I brought lots of sunscreen for Gusi, some for us, as well as some moisturizer with sunscreen in it for myself, but I need to use it a lot more often--as well as broad brimmed hats. I don't want skin cancer or premature wrinkles, and I have to keep reminding myself that we are much closer to the equator now than we were before so precautions are a must.
The trick is how to keep Gusi's hat on each time he goes outdoors.
I brought lots of sunscreen for Gusi, some for us, as well as some moisturizer with sunscreen in it for myself, but I need to use it a lot more often--as well as broad brimmed hats. I don't want skin cancer or premature wrinkles, and I have to keep reminding myself that we are much closer to the equator now than we were before so precautions are a must.
The trick is how to keep Gusi's hat on each time he goes outdoors.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Update on Korite
We have two night guards and both received $10 for Korite (Eid-al-Fitr). The next big Muslim holiday will be Tabaski (Eid-al-Adha) at the end of December. I've been told that Korite is more family oriented whereas Tabaski is all about sharing with family, friends and neighbors and thus a bigger deal. We'll give our guards some cash as well as some food for Tabaski.
It's His Home
What amazes me most these days is the ability my son has to adapt to a complete change in his lifestyle. We are on another continent, speaking another language, with people who dress in other ways and despite all these differences, he is happy.
Each time we come up to our house gate, Gusi always shouts out casa since he knows he is home. I think PapaGus and I are still at that point of feeling we are at our house, but not necessarily our home. It just doesn't feel like a home yet, to me at least, but it does to Gusi. He happily runs all over the house, opens the kitchen cabinet doors, runs to his play room to fish out some toys, and sleeps in his room (most every night) all without much fuss. He has his picky moments, but for the most part they are isolated. He is enjoying himself here and it is apparent. I need to start seeing this adventure through my child's eyes; hopefully that will shine a more positive light on the fact that we still don't have our stuff.
Each time we come up to our house gate, Gusi always shouts out casa since he knows he is home. I think PapaGus and I are still at that point of feeling we are at our house, but not necessarily our home. It just doesn't feel like a home yet, to me at least, but it does to Gusi. He happily runs all over the house, opens the kitchen cabinet doors, runs to his play room to fish out some toys, and sleeps in his room (most every night) all without much fuss. He has his picky moments, but for the most part they are isolated. He is enjoying himself here and it is apparent. I need to start seeing this adventure through my child's eyes; hopefully that will shine a more positive light on the fact that we still don't have our stuff.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
House Call
We had a bit of a scare last night: Gusi had a fever. Normally I wouldn't think twice before reaching for his medicine, but here you have to wonder: could it be malaria? A telltale sign of malaria is a high fever. Of course, I am just getting over some bug that has been going around and apparently this same bug has spread like wildfire among the kids at the International School of Dakar (ISD) who then take it home to their younger siblings and parents (and on to play dates with folks like me in attendance).
Gusi was feeling a bit warm around 2pm but he was his same cheery self. Then around 5pm he was feeling really hot. PapaGus was home and we took his temperature. It was 102. We immediately worried about malaria even though Gusi is taking prophylaxis and sleeps in an air conditioned room. We even have the malaria treatment in syrup form so if Gusi does come down with malaria we have his medicine on hand. But, where would we get a blood smear to make sure he has malaria? And given that I had just come down with a virus (though no fever), I thought it was probable that it was another bug and not malaria. Still, how could you be sure?
We called the US Embassy doctor, who's wife is a friend of mine, and asked where we could take Gusi to get a blood smear on a Friday night during Korite. He said we should just bring Gusi by his house so he could take a look. We explained that we would need to take a taxi since our car isn't here yet (gggrrrrrr) so it could take a while since Dakar is all but emptied out. He told us not to worry, he would stop by the house. Huh? An American doctor making a house call? Well, we do have a small child who is sick and taking a taxi to and from his house would be difficult at best on a night like this, so wow, ok, we'll wait for him to show up.
Show up he did, in shorts, a polo shirt and loafers with a small black satchel in his hand. When we opened the door I had the feeling of being in an old movie with the doctor on my door step. I couldn't help but feel it was some type of outer body experience. He took a look at Gusi's ears, nose and throat and said that it was the same thing going around--everyone is getting it and it's not malaria. No blood smear? No. No waiting in line late at night in a clinic where no one speaks English? No. Wow.
We gave Gusi some more medicine before he went to bed and even though he was feeling a bit punky, he slept pretty well. He woke up at 4am wanting to eat pasta, had some, and then went back to sleep for a few hours. Ironically enough, we are supposed to have dinner tonight at the doctor's house so Gusi will get a follow up visit without us ever having to make an appointment, and therein lies my peace of mind. Somehow life in Dakar seems easier already.
Gusi was feeling a bit warm around 2pm but he was his same cheery self. Then around 5pm he was feeling really hot. PapaGus was home and we took his temperature. It was 102. We immediately worried about malaria even though Gusi is taking prophylaxis and sleeps in an air conditioned room. We even have the malaria treatment in syrup form so if Gusi does come down with malaria we have his medicine on hand. But, where would we get a blood smear to make sure he has malaria? And given that I had just come down with a virus (though no fever), I thought it was probable that it was another bug and not malaria. Still, how could you be sure?
We called the US Embassy doctor, who's wife is a friend of mine, and asked where we could take Gusi to get a blood smear on a Friday night during Korite. He said we should just bring Gusi by his house so he could take a look. We explained that we would need to take a taxi since our car isn't here yet (gggrrrrrr) so it could take a while since Dakar is all but emptied out. He told us not to worry, he would stop by the house. Huh? An American doctor making a house call? Well, we do have a small child who is sick and taking a taxi to and from his house would be difficult at best on a night like this, so wow, ok, we'll wait for him to show up.
Show up he did, in shorts, a polo shirt and loafers with a small black satchel in his hand. When we opened the door I had the feeling of being in an old movie with the doctor on my door step. I couldn't help but feel it was some type of outer body experience. He took a look at Gusi's ears, nose and throat and said that it was the same thing going around--everyone is getting it and it's not malaria. No blood smear? No. No waiting in line late at night in a clinic where no one speaks English? No. Wow.
We gave Gusi some more medicine before he went to bed and even though he was feeling a bit punky, he slept pretty well. He woke up at 4am wanting to eat pasta, had some, and then went back to sleep for a few hours. Ironically enough, we are supposed to have dinner tonight at the doctor's house so Gusi will get a follow up visit without us ever having to make an appointment, and therein lies my peace of mind. Somehow life in Dakar seems easier already.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Korite
The end of Ramadan is here: Eid-al-Fitr, also known as Korite here in Senegal. Depending on what sect you are or what religious leader you listen to, it could be Saturday or it could be Sunday. In either case, for all those people fasting in this intense heat, relief is here.
As I see our night guard pray facing Mecca, I wonder what his Korite (Kor-ee-tay) will be like. Is it like our Christmas? Last minute gifts for the family and eating too much? Or is it less materialistic and more time spent with the family?
Most everyone will leave Dakar this weekend to go to their home villages and spend time with their loved ones. While this is usually the time to give folks their holiday bonus, PapaGus and I wonder and debate how to proceed. This is our first Korite and we have only second hand experience regarding holiday bonuses. Do you give your night guard money so he can spend it as he wishes (perhaps even on cigarettes instead of his son's school fees) or do you give him a plump chicken, some rice and some flour (knowing this will at least have a nutritional benefit)?
We ended up getting hit up for a loan last night from one of our night guards. It was for approximately $10, but that's a lot of money here. He wanted the money to pay off the balance he owed a tailor. He had ordered a bou-bou (traditional African long flowing gown) for his wife. It was going to cost him $26 and he had already paid $16 but didn't have the balance. Since our friend Steve was over here on his way back to Gabon, we asked him for his advice. We informed our night guard that we had collectively decided to "all pitch in" to give him the extra $10 he needed but it was a special situation since it was Korite. The danger now is running into becoming a small-loan lender without meaning to. Steve told us plenty of stories last night about all the loans he has made over the years to both his personal staff and the night guards (who are employed by a private company).
So, what about the other night guards we have? I gave the weekend guy some dates which is traditional fast-breaking food, as well as a bowl of pasta and meatballs (that's what we had for dinner). But still, I feel bad that one guy gets the cash and the others may get something they don't need or don't want. PapaGus thinks we should give them the food staples; I am leaning more towards the cash just because the first guy already got it out of us. Sure, they may use it for something totally negligible, but they also may use it to pay off a loan, buy medicine for their kid, or to get a gift for their wife. I know that there are all kinds of studies out there that show that men don't invest in the well-being of their families like women do, but still...these guys are earning about $1/hr, working 12 hour shifts doing incredibly boring work. Wouldn't it be nice if just once in a blue moon they had some pocket money to do as they pleased? I just want to do what is right...and that's where I start chasing my tail it seems.
As I see our night guard pray facing Mecca, I wonder what his Korite (Kor-ee-tay) will be like. Is it like our Christmas? Last minute gifts for the family and eating too much? Or is it less materialistic and more time spent with the family?
Most everyone will leave Dakar this weekend to go to their home villages and spend time with their loved ones. While this is usually the time to give folks their holiday bonus, PapaGus and I wonder and debate how to proceed. This is our first Korite and we have only second hand experience regarding holiday bonuses. Do you give your night guard money so he can spend it as he wishes (perhaps even on cigarettes instead of his son's school fees) or do you give him a plump chicken, some rice and some flour (knowing this will at least have a nutritional benefit)?
We ended up getting hit up for a loan last night from one of our night guards. It was for approximately $10, but that's a lot of money here. He wanted the money to pay off the balance he owed a tailor. He had ordered a bou-bou (traditional African long flowing gown) for his wife. It was going to cost him $26 and he had already paid $16 but didn't have the balance. Since our friend Steve was over here on his way back to Gabon, we asked him for his advice. We informed our night guard that we had collectively decided to "all pitch in" to give him the extra $10 he needed but it was a special situation since it was Korite. The danger now is running into becoming a small-loan lender without meaning to. Steve told us plenty of stories last night about all the loans he has made over the years to both his personal staff and the night guards (who are employed by a private company).
So, what about the other night guards we have? I gave the weekend guy some dates which is traditional fast-breaking food, as well as a bowl of pasta and meatballs (that's what we had for dinner). But still, I feel bad that one guy gets the cash and the others may get something they don't need or don't want. PapaGus thinks we should give them the food staples; I am leaning more towards the cash just because the first guy already got it out of us. Sure, they may use it for something totally negligible, but they also may use it to pay off a loan, buy medicine for their kid, or to get a gift for their wife. I know that there are all kinds of studies out there that show that men don't invest in the well-being of their families like women do, but still...these guys are earning about $1/hr, working 12 hour shifts doing incredibly boring work. Wouldn't it be nice if just once in a blue moon they had some pocket money to do as they pleased? I just want to do what is right...and that's where I start chasing my tail it seems.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Spirits Out Back
I just realized that we have two small Baobab trees in our back yard. In Senegal, the Baobab is believed to keep many spirits because it lives many, many years and has many, many uses. In fact, recently on the Corniche (one of the main roads under construction here in Dakar) they had to cut down a Baobab to expand the road. I was told that a special religious leader had to be called to release the spirits to avoid calamity. After that, the road construction continued without hassle from disturbed spirits. So now I wonder, how old are our little Baobabs? What have they witnessed here in this house? Might some spirits be out back without us being aware? If there are, I would think that they are happy with how our gardener is bringing life back to the garden, slowly but surely.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Our First House Guest
Late last night our friend Steve arrived. He is our first official house guest. He and PapaGus used to work together so when we heard that he had a conference in a resort town south of Dakar we told him he should come see us. He ended up getting in around 2am and since we hadn't seen him in a while we chatted until 4am.
Steve lives in Gabon, West Africa with his family so when we told him about our mouse problem he didn't seem to mind. "Get a cat," is what he told us. I explained that Gusi and I are allergic to cats. He told me that he was too, as was one of his children but they had to get a cat to get rid of their mouse problem. He also gave us some good tips on living and traveling in Africa with small children which was helpful.
We got up with Gusi at 6:45am and told him that Steve was here. When he came into the kitchen around 7:30am, Gusi was a rather bit shy but then warmed up to him. Gusi found it easier to call Steve by his name in Spanish: Esteban. And since Esteban also speaks Spanish he and Gusi hit it off right away. Perhaps it's because he remembered when Steve visited us in the US when Gusi was four months old? Probably not, but Steve has a way with kids that is welcoming.
It was nice to have an old friend stop by and chat with us. He'll be coming back again to Dakar later this week taking a flight to Casablanca, Morocco and then on to Gabon, so I'll have to make sure to make something special for dinner that evening. Until then I can say that the guest bedroom has been christened.
Steve lives in Gabon, West Africa with his family so when we told him about our mouse problem he didn't seem to mind. "Get a cat," is what he told us. I explained that Gusi and I are allergic to cats. He told me that he was too, as was one of his children but they had to get a cat to get rid of their mouse problem. He also gave us some good tips on living and traveling in Africa with small children which was helpful.
We got up with Gusi at 6:45am and told him that Steve was here. When he came into the kitchen around 7:30am, Gusi was a rather bit shy but then warmed up to him. Gusi found it easier to call Steve by his name in Spanish: Esteban. And since Esteban also speaks Spanish he and Gusi hit it off right away. Perhaps it's because he remembered when Steve visited us in the US when Gusi was four months old? Probably not, but Steve has a way with kids that is welcoming.
It was nice to have an old friend stop by and chat with us. He'll be coming back again to Dakar later this week taking a flight to Casablanca, Morocco and then on to Gabon, so I'll have to make sure to make something special for dinner that evening. Until then I can say that the guest bedroom has been christened.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Another One Bites the Dust
We realized too late that our traps are actually for rats and not for mice: all the chocolate bait was eaten without so much as a snap. They must have thought that it was chocolate happy hour.
Today we had folks from the housing department come to check out the mice problem. They'll be bringing us some special glue to put down as well as some smaller traps to hide out of Gusi's reach. That is reassuring but they also told us that it would be about a month before all the mice were gone. Great.
When PapaGus came home (Gusi was already asleep) we were getting ready to have dinner together when all of a sudden we saw a mouse in the hallway. I ran to close all the doors to the other rooms to leave the mouse no place but the hallway while PapaGus chased him underneath our crate. (We had a crate brought to our house full of temporary essentials like linens, plates, coffee pots, etc., that sits in our hallway until our own things come and we return the borrowed ones. The crate is massive and heavy.) He then grabbed the umbrella, lifted up the crate, moved it a few inches and dropped it down and was ready to attack. But he had already done the deed. When he dropped the crate as he moved it, it fell on the mouse and killed it. It was easier than he had thought. PapaGus was so proud that he took a picture of his catch. I still cringe at the thought of this Kodak moment. He may not be much of a trapper, but he's a great hunter.
Today we had folks from the housing department come to check out the mice problem. They'll be bringing us some special glue to put down as well as some smaller traps to hide out of Gusi's reach. That is reassuring but they also told us that it would be about a month before all the mice were gone. Great.
When PapaGus came home (Gusi was already asleep) we were getting ready to have dinner together when all of a sudden we saw a mouse in the hallway. I ran to close all the doors to the other rooms to leave the mouse no place but the hallway while PapaGus chased him underneath our crate. (We had a crate brought to our house full of temporary essentials like linens, plates, coffee pots, etc., that sits in our hallway until our own things come and we return the borrowed ones. The crate is massive and heavy.) He then grabbed the umbrella, lifted up the crate, moved it a few inches and dropped it down and was ready to attack. But he had already done the deed. When he dropped the crate as he moved it, it fell on the mouse and killed it. It was easier than he had thought. PapaGus was so proud that he took a picture of his catch. I still cringe at the thought of this Kodak moment. He may not be much of a trapper, but he's a great hunter.
New Habits
Gusi is blossoming into a very loving child. His latest antic is blowing raspberries on us just as we do to him. We go for his belly but to get him to really giggle we do his legs or his back. Now he's learned how to blow them himself and he will blow on any body part that is uncovered by clothes. Today he surprised me and blew a raspberry on my neck. He laughed at the thought of making me laugh. He always loves blowing raspberries on his father and the two can do it for hours on end it seems. The fact that he's learning and imitating is proof that he's growing more and more each day.
Another new habit is what I like to call the blame game. I have no idea how he thought to do this but he has done it. Now, every time he toots (kid-speak for passing gas) and he knows we've heard it, he asks if Mama's done it. I give him a look of shock and say that of course it wasn't me. Then he turns to his father and asks if it was him and he does the same thing. Then we say Gusi did it and he laughs. But every time he toots he wants to blame it on someone else. He's much too clever.
Another new habit is what I like to call the blame game. I have no idea how he thought to do this but he has done it. Now, every time he toots (kid-speak for passing gas) and he knows we've heard it, he asks if Mama's done it. I give him a look of shock and say that of course it wasn't me. Then he turns to his father and asks if it was him and he does the same thing. Then we say Gusi did it and he laughs. But every time he toots he wants to blame it on someone else. He's much too clever.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Missing YaYa
Back home Gusi had the best hairdresser. We would go to this salon just for kids. They have a train set, toys and cute little chairs shaped like different cars the kids sit in for their haircuts. We tried other kid salons, but this was the best one we found, plus they had YaYa.
YaYa is great. She was born and raised in the US but her family is from Mexico and she speaks fluent Spanish. She is patient, mild mannered and soothing. She was the perfect hairdresser for Gusi. If he would start to cry during his haircuts, she always had an animal cracker available to calm him down. After that he would start talking to YaYa, mumbling words in Spanish with his mouth full of animal cracker that I then translated. I miss her terribly.
Yesterday afternoon after the pottery class and a nap, our friend Gina told me she was going to get her hair cut at the Lebanese lady's place. I had heard about her having very good prices, knowing how to cut "white people's hair" (that's the tacky way people refer to straight hair here) and also doing children's hair so I asked Gina if we could tag along to get Gusi's hair cut.
The poor boy has been sweating so much here that his hair, though it's not terribly long, just mats down on his head giving him the appearance of a wet seal, just glistening in the sun. So I thought the Lebanese lady would be good to go to, plus I had heard from some moms that they were satisfied with their kids' hair cuts. Boy was I in for a shock. When we got there, Gina got shampooed and Gusi got the booster chair. The Lebanese lady called over an assistant who put a smock on Gusi at which point he began to cry. Then the Lebanese lady and her assistant put Gusi's head in a vice grip between the two of them and proceeded to cut his hair with the buzzers and then scissors for up top. Gusi just kept crying and crying, louder and louder, even calling for YaYa for a while. It was horrible, but before I could say anything they had already done half his head. I endured his crying while they finished and felt so horribly guilty for what I had put him through.
It is hard to explain to people here that you should be delicate with a child--that's just not part of the culture. Infants and toddlers are strapped to their mothers' backs and ignored for most of the day; early childhood development is not a concept that is understood--kind of like oral health I'm noticing. I tried to tell the Lebanese lady that she should let me hold Gusi to calm him down, she said no, that she would be done in a minute. In the end, he calmed down when Gina's driver gave him the key to their car (Gusi loves keys) and the Lebanese lady finished up. The crazy part is that when Gina told her driver to take us back home and then return for her, Gusi started crying Gina's name. He refused to leave without her. Refused. Perhaps he thought that she would be in danger during her haircut so he wanted to keep the group together: strength in numbers.
The haircut looks fine, a bit shorter than I usually like it, but it's done. Next time I will try the more expensive salon at the Hotel Meridien President that has been recommended. Let's see how close to YaYa we can get over there. If not, I'll start cutting his hair myself.
(It turns out the Lebanese lady is third generation Senegalese-born, so her great grandparents were the ones who emigrated. She is very much Senegalese through and through; her skin color is the only thing that is different from other Senegalese.)
YaYa is great. She was born and raised in the US but her family is from Mexico and she speaks fluent Spanish. She is patient, mild mannered and soothing. She was the perfect hairdresser for Gusi. If he would start to cry during his haircuts, she always had an animal cracker available to calm him down. After that he would start talking to YaYa, mumbling words in Spanish with his mouth full of animal cracker that I then translated. I miss her terribly.
Yesterday afternoon after the pottery class and a nap, our friend Gina told me she was going to get her hair cut at the Lebanese lady's place. I had heard about her having very good prices, knowing how to cut "white people's hair" (that's the tacky way people refer to straight hair here) and also doing children's hair so I asked Gina if we could tag along to get Gusi's hair cut.
The poor boy has been sweating so much here that his hair, though it's not terribly long, just mats down on his head giving him the appearance of a wet seal, just glistening in the sun. So I thought the Lebanese lady would be good to go to, plus I had heard from some moms that they were satisfied with their kids' hair cuts. Boy was I in for a shock. When we got there, Gina got shampooed and Gusi got the booster chair. The Lebanese lady called over an assistant who put a smock on Gusi at which point he began to cry. Then the Lebanese lady and her assistant put Gusi's head in a vice grip between the two of them and proceeded to cut his hair with the buzzers and then scissors for up top. Gusi just kept crying and crying, louder and louder, even calling for YaYa for a while. It was horrible, but before I could say anything they had already done half his head. I endured his crying while they finished and felt so horribly guilty for what I had put him through.
It is hard to explain to people here that you should be delicate with a child--that's just not part of the culture. Infants and toddlers are strapped to their mothers' backs and ignored for most of the day; early childhood development is not a concept that is understood--kind of like oral health I'm noticing. I tried to tell the Lebanese lady that she should let me hold Gusi to calm him down, she said no, that she would be done in a minute. In the end, he calmed down when Gina's driver gave him the key to their car (Gusi loves keys) and the Lebanese lady finished up. The crazy part is that when Gina told her driver to take us back home and then return for her, Gusi started crying Gina's name. He refused to leave without her. Refused. Perhaps he thought that she would be in danger during her haircut so he wanted to keep the group together: strength in numbers.
The haircut looks fine, a bit shorter than I usually like it, but it's done. Next time I will try the more expensive salon at the Hotel Meridien President that has been recommended. Let's see how close to YaYa we can get over there. If not, I'll start cutting his hair myself.
(It turns out the Lebanese lady is third generation Senegalese-born, so her great grandparents were the ones who emigrated. She is very much Senegalese through and through; her skin color is the only thing that is different from other Senegalese.)
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Our Hands in Senegalese Clay
Today was an incredibly hectic day. I found out that the American Club was having a Mommy & Me pottery class at 10am but none of my mom-friends were going. So, ever the eager mother to broaden her son's horizons, Gusi and I got ready and hailed a taxi a block from our house. As in most developing countries you need to bargain the price before you get in the taxi. So, even though we were late, I had to bargain. The guy wanted CFA1500 which is just over $3 but I knew that the fair price was CFA1000 ($2) so we ping-ponged back and forth until he smiled and agreed to my price.
The ride was quick since there wasn't much traffic and we made it to the club only to find out we were the only ones to show up for the class. No one else was there. But Ibrahima, the teacher, was kind and got out some clay for Gusi and I. We sat at a plastic table in plastic chairs under the shade of a nearby tree next to the pool. Gusi was a bit distracted from time to time when the kids from the nearby ISD (International School of Dakar) came for their swim class, but he seemed to enjoy himself with the clay. I kept telling him it was like play-dough and we were going to make little shapes.
I noticed that Ibrahima's assistant, Babacar, wasn't speaking much, just rolling the clay and trying to get Gusi to do the same by pointing quite a bit. I asked if Babacar was deaf and Ibrahima said yes. I smiled and told them that Gusi knew some American Sign Language (ASL). They were a bit confused and asked if Gusi was deaf, but finally understood after some explanation on my part that in the US we use ASL for early communication with babies. They were impressed as Gusi signed and spoke, so much so that Babacar made the sign for happy many, many, many times during our 45 minutes together. He just became elated every time Gusi signed.
In the end Gusi made (with the help of Babacar and myself) an imprint of his hand, a fish, a duck that got squashed as Gusi tried to put a hat on it, and a giraffe. Ibrahima will fire these up (minus the squashed duck) at his studio and we'll get a chance to paint them in two weeks. His studio works with deaf and handicapped children and youth in Dakar. He is a patient man and it looks like he will be a good instructor for both Gusi and I.
Ibrahima laughed as he told me that no work would get done this afternoon at his studio since Babacar would spend the whole time telling everyone about how this little hearing-baby from America can sign. I am glad that Gusi is getting exposed to more Senegalese people, especially those as kind-hearted as Ibrahima and Babacar. Perhaps when we get our car we will ask to visit Ibrahima's studio to see the kind of work that he is doing. That would be a great field trip for the both of us.
The ride was quick since there wasn't much traffic and we made it to the club only to find out we were the only ones to show up for the class. No one else was there. But Ibrahima, the teacher, was kind and got out some clay for Gusi and I. We sat at a plastic table in plastic chairs under the shade of a nearby tree next to the pool. Gusi was a bit distracted from time to time when the kids from the nearby ISD (International School of Dakar) came for their swim class, but he seemed to enjoy himself with the clay. I kept telling him it was like play-dough and we were going to make little shapes.
I noticed that Ibrahima's assistant, Babacar, wasn't speaking much, just rolling the clay and trying to get Gusi to do the same by pointing quite a bit. I asked if Babacar was deaf and Ibrahima said yes. I smiled and told them that Gusi knew some American Sign Language (ASL). They were a bit confused and asked if Gusi was deaf, but finally understood after some explanation on my part that in the US we use ASL for early communication with babies. They were impressed as Gusi signed and spoke, so much so that Babacar made the sign for happy many, many, many times during our 45 minutes together. He just became elated every time Gusi signed.
In the end Gusi made (with the help of Babacar and myself) an imprint of his hand, a fish, a duck that got squashed as Gusi tried to put a hat on it, and a giraffe. Ibrahima will fire these up (minus the squashed duck) at his studio and we'll get a chance to paint them in two weeks. His studio works with deaf and handicapped children and youth in Dakar. He is a patient man and it looks like he will be a good instructor for both Gusi and I.
Ibrahima laughed as he told me that no work would get done this afternoon at his studio since Babacar would spend the whole time telling everyone about how this little hearing-baby from America can sign. I am glad that Gusi is getting exposed to more Senegalese people, especially those as kind-hearted as Ibrahima and Babacar. Perhaps when we get our car we will ask to visit Ibrahima's studio to see the kind of work that he is doing. That would be a great field trip for the both of us.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Not Condoning But Understanding
There's a road that goes by the light house called Rue d'Ouakam (pronounced wah-kam) that has a beautiful scenic view of the ocean. Part of the road passes by a small beach where the fishermen bring in their catch of the day. Gusi always loves to shout barcos or bateaux (boats in Spanish and French) when we pass this part. Just up the road a bit from here as you leave the city, is a small shack. Perhaps an impromptu tent would better describe it. In any case, there lives a man. Homeless is what we would call it back home. Sometimes he wanders the road to direct traffic. Sometimes his door is left open. Sometimes...no...many times...he is completely naked. Now, without trying to make fun of the sad situation, or much less condone it, I can understand why one would want to take one's clothes off in this heat. It's hot and it's Africa, so if someone mentally unstable strips down to their birthday suit...well, frankly, I understand...and I look the other way.
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