On Monday morning all eight volunteers crammed into Mr. T's brother's car to make our way to the British embassy in order to meet the British ambassador to Senegal. We were very generously invited into the ambassadorial house to enjoy some chilled drinks (bliss!) in the air conditioned drawing room. Now, don't get me wrong, I love Senegal just as much as the next Francophile, however that hour and a half we spent sipping tropicana orange juice with ice made of purified water, discussing the state of affairs in our very own beautiful language, and making use of the Molten Brown hand wash in the bathroom was time treasured. I got a bit jittery half way through when I realised there was a piano in the room; I had a quick play and was invited to play for the embassy's Christmas carol evening for British expat in Senegal - bonus!! Now, where did I put those 'carols for choirs' books….?!

After thanking the Ambassador we headed back out to the sauna that is Dakar, and my partner Katie and I and the two boys got back in the car to drive to Kaolack (location of the boys' project) via Joal (our project!!). We arrived three hours later reduced to windswept, sweaty heaps, and presented ourselves in this manner to Amadou and his wife Aicha, our hosts, and Marieme, their 4 year old daughter with whom we'll be living for the next year. I immediately committed a complete faux pas, offering my hand to Amadou before realising that, as a devout Muslim, he doesn't touch women to whom he is not related. Rats. However, I don't think he's taken it personally, just put it down to classic Western ignorance…

Joal itself is a small fishing town, not many steps down from the garden of Eden; between one stagnant pool and another, the dried mud and frequent donkeys and carts carrying casually racist children are just to my taste. Charming though it is, Joal is best known for being near to Fadiouth Island, which is completely made out of shells, though we have yet to visit. However the local population make up for any lack of aesthetic; people are very eager to greet us and know our names, however if the conversation goes any further my Wolof deserts me entirely. We're also learning to respond with a smile to shouts of 'toubab' (white person - as if we didn't know?!) from the younger inhabitants of Joal. In the house we all speak French, which is awesome. Compared to Dakar, the food's pretty varied; we have rice, fish, rice and fish, and sometimes rice, fish and carrots. Today we even had yams. Luckily for our delicate English stomachs, breakfast, alongside last night's leftovers, offers warm baguette from 'La Boutique' and powdered milk (good for downing the anti-malarials). We've also acquired a couple of new neighbours with whom we don't completely see eye to eye; they cluck incessantly and do a great impression of a strangled cat when sharing their rendition of 'Morning Has Broken' at six in the morning.

Katie and I spent the afternoon sorting out/arranging our stuff in our room (declared the British Embassy of Joal), drinking tons of water, and promptly sweating it back out again. We also acquainted ourselves with the manual flushing toilet and 'African shower' (bucket + water, it's better than the 'proper' one here!). We're also getting used to having the day punctuated with regular praying from Amadou and Aicha, and becoming Marieme's full time personal playmates. She's taken quite a liking to my guitar, and whilst her eagerness is endearing, I fear it may to damage to the guitar's long term health.

The next day we went to the market with Aicha and Amadou, and bought material to take to the tailor's to make into boubous, or traditional Senegalese dresses. We also got all our stuff for breakfast, which we now take responsibility for, gathering up a few winks and declarations of love along the way ;) from the shoemaker, butcher, and tailor. I know all you gals out there'll be well jeal…Don't worry, in our position as teachers we've been strongly advised by Amadou not to become 'open' with any members of the opposite gender. It's not too much of a struggle. Katie and I thoroughy enjoyed carrying out health and safety assessments at the various outlets in the market; needless to say, they all failed. However the food tasted just as good this evening (we had noodles, eating with our hands has allowed me to perfect the lift and flick technique to get maximum noodles into mouth and minimum on skirt, Katie less so.)

This afternoon Katie and I braved a walk around Joal toute seule, all was going swimmingly with the salaam alaikums and ca vas flowing freely, machetes being casually waved around by small children, until we managed to pass the local Koranic school at home time. We were shortly mobbed by aforementioned racist children, who all got a kick out of grabbing our hands and pulling at my skirt. I almost felt like Mother Teresa, though it was a feeling which quickly passed. I also went on a walk with Marieme which ended up at her aunt and uncle's house; I spent a pleasurable half an hour on their roof discussing Senegalese politics whilst the little darlings played around our feet. As if. The kids here are CRAZY.

In the evening we had our first powercut, so got out the candles and got cosy avec Katie et Marieme in the corridor, a bit like being back in the Dean! Though it feels like we're not doing much at the moment, Katie and I are really looking forward to starting work at the lycee and middle school on Monday, as well as running clubs at the primary school and improving our languages by getting to know members of the community better…I'll keep you posted.

A xx

P.S. HAPPY WORLD PEACE DAY!!!

P.P.S. Photo - some village idiots en route to Joal...