Election Season

A few weeks ago, I had a meltdown somewhat more serious than my almost-daily mini-meltdowns. What am I doing here? I wondered. My women’s groups’ money hadn’t come in, and I was running out of latrines to rehabilitate and things to plant. So I went for a long run. As I ran along  the shore of the Senegal River, with Mauritania on my left and a bread truck headed for Rosso filled with people inside and six or so others hanging off the back, I pondered this question and came upon my answer.

My initial reason to do Peace Corps, voiced to just about everyone except my recruiter, was “to do cool stuff.” Somewhat more productively, I thought I wanted to do something in development but didn’t know what, and thought it irresponsible to go into development without actually living in the developing world. More selfishly, I wanted to not be in America. And do cool stuff.

Sometimes, particularly in the heat of the day, in the midst of an argument over why I, as a woman, could even entertain the notion that I have rights equal to those of a man, I forget these reasons. Or when my working day, carefully structured around several meetings, is ruined because the other parties have taken off for a gamou or ngeente (of which there are often multiple each day) without bothering to inform me.

So I make an effort to remember these reasons. Doing cool stuff? I think crossing though herds of cattle while running along the border of Mauritania counts. And experiencing problems in the developing world from a perspective I would be hard-pressed to find through another organization? Well, if my daily arguments over women’s rights, or encouragement to send kids to a public school, where they learn to read and write in French, or work in educating on nutrition and saving money weren’t enough, this election season has added a whole new dimension.

For those of you who don’t know what’s going on in Senegal right now, here’s the deal: the current president, Abdoulaye Wade, has served two 7-year terms. In 2001, after his 2000 election, an amendment to the Constitution was made, limiting a president to only 2 terms. Wade argued that, as he was first elected before the amendment was made, his first term should not be counted. A constitutional committee, made up of Wade’s appointees, recently ruled for Wade and allowed him to run for a third term, resulting in violent riots throughout Dakar and several major cities, such as Kaolack and Thies.

Ronkh, of course, has been quiet. The reactions of those who pay attention have uniformly been “Wade bëgguma jamm” (Wade doesn’t like peace). This goes beyond the obvious, overly simplistic “Wade likes these riots,” though whether the deeper implications are fully understood is an issue I have not yet probed, for fear of getting into a discussion of politics in which I have to express my views, which we as Peace Corps volunteers are to refrain from doing for obvious reasons. Furthermore, the ever-irritating “if it’s meant to be, it will happen” attitude prevails here, with people saying that if Wade wins, it’s because the people want him to. I’m not convinced: I had lunch today with a man who is both the chef du village and imam of a town in Ziguinchor and who told me of Wade’s men paying him, with the expectation that he will convince his population to vote for Wade. A fellow PCV, who lives with the chef du village of her town, has reported a similar story.

Despite this “what will be will be” attitude, no one in Ronkh seems particularly apt to vote for Wade. The candidate of choice seems to be Idrissa Seck:

In any case, this next month should prove very interesting. As I mentioned above, large-scale, violent riots followed the announcement of Wade’s eligibility for candidacy; the elections themselves aren’t until the end of February. In the meantime, we as PCVs are stuck speculating Peace Corps’s next move: keep us in our villages, where we’re safe from the riots of the cities, or consolidate us in one spot so they can evacuate us quickly if need be. We’ll see.