Annoyed

I wrote some beautiful long blog messages on my computer last night, saved them to a disk, went to a good cyber that can actually read disks, and discovered that my version of Microsoft Word (the new one, a Mac-lookalike...I don't get it. If I'd wanted Mac software I'd have bought a Mac! I want my old Windows!) cannot be opened here. So, I am annoyed. But I will try to recreate it somewhat. The day before yesterday I went to a baptism in the village. It was as much fun as you can have without electricity! Keep in mind that the definition of "fun" in the village is: eating meat. When I asked one lady what she liked to do for amusement, she got a huge smile on her fact and said, "I eat meat!" So, this is what we did. I spent most of the baptism in the kitchen - which is an outdoor area, where the animals are also kept, but which is spacious enough to accompdate dozens of women sweating over enormous cauldrens of rice. Cooking for an entire village is quite the undertaking; I contributed a few stirs here and there, and pounded spices and onions a little bit, but mostly I was relegated to watching the expert cooks scurry around, stirring the vats of boiling, oily water over smoky stoves. Peanut shells are the fuel most often used, which makes for a lot of smoke. And it gets hot in the kitchen with so many fires going! For breakfast at the baptism they prepared two huge pots of "ceeb u yapp" (rice and meat, very greasy and delicious) as well as three pots of "lakh", which is a kind of thick porridge that is served with yogurt on top. We all ate that until we we were stuffed. Meanwhile, outside the kitchen, the baptism itself was going on. I can't describe this as I didn't see it, except to catch glimpses of the colorful crowd as the family of the new baby paraded around. They killed a big ram for lunch, which we cooked shortly thereafter. The ceeb u yapp was prepared by heating oil in the cauldren, adding the chunks of meat, then once it has been cooked adding spices and enough water to fill the pot, and whatever vegetables are to go along with it. In yesterday's case, this was cabbage. Other typical choices are manioc, sweet potato, or squash. While this stew is bubbling, rice (once it has been well scrubbed to remove the most obvious bits of not-rice, which are inevitably found in the sacks here in the form of black grains, seeds, or even insects) is set on top in a sieve to steam. Only later, once the meat and veggis have been fished out and set aside, is the rice added to the oily water to cook. The men were served first - huge steaming trays of rice topped with the meat and cabbage - and then the women, but there was so much we all ate to the point of being stuffed and there were still leftovers! Noos yu bare. Also, a griotte - a traditional musical performer, who are a typical feature at big parties - was hired to sing and entertain. A dance circle was formed while lunch was cooking. It strikes me that the Senegalese are reluctant dancers. I stood outside the circle to watch, but mostly people just clapped along, while a few brave souls went into the middle to dance. They managed to haul me into the center, though, and I hopped around a little in what I hope was decent imitation of dancing, while everyone laughed and the griotte sang out my name. So, that was fun! And the women obviously enjoyed it; I saw them imitating me and giggling later on when describing my dance to the friends who weren't there to see it. Everyone dressed in finery to attend the baptism and eat the greasily delicious meat, and we all had a very good time.



My other blog post (see, I really had meant to make this a good one!) was supposed to be entitled: a typical day in the village. Fortunately my life is not so monotonous that I can honestly say, "this is what I do every day", but there is enough repetition that I can give a decent account of my everyday schedule. So, here it goes:



At 7am or so I wake up, and if there is food in my hut (like fruit or bread I bought at the louma, or snacks from home...hint hint!) I eat that for breakfast, with maybe a cup of coffee or tea. By 8am I try to be out of the house to make the greeting rounds: my family, the imam and his family, my grandmother, and the village chief and family. I might then go to the boutique to buy breakfast (if there wasn't any before) like beignets - four nice big ones for 100cfa - or biscuits, or maybe eggs. After breakfast and greetings are all over I take my bidons (big yellow jugs with caps, so I can't spill) over to the well. Sometimes I do this in the morning, but if not I am sure to go in the afternoon. Anyway, at the well I stand around and sometimes the women let me help pull water, but otherwise I wait around until they offer to fill my jugs, which I then ferry home on my head. Then, I wash my dishes fromt he day before and set them out to dry. Lately the primary activity of women in my village has been peeling bissap, so after their breakfast is done I typically join them in the shade of the neem trees to help with the tedious work of popping the hard cores from the center of the fruit. I've gotten quite good at it after all these weeks of practice! Meanwhile, it is also building season, so I have spent some mornings helping the men construct new houses. They use bricks made of mud - luckily the soil in Keur Ali Gueye is heavy in clay, so it holds together well - which have been placed in a mould and dried in the sun. Fresh mud (usually dug and mixed by young boys, in a big pit) is used for mortar. I've helped plaster together a couple walls, and also the base of a brick bread oven, which one man in my village is constructing. These activities take up most of the morning. Lunch (which is always rice of come form, either "choo" - fish and vegetable sauce on top of white rice - or "mafe" - thick, peanut-based sauce atop white rice - or "ceeb u jen" - rice cooked in oil, topped with fish and vegetables) happens between 3 and 4pm. I share the bowl with my two village moms and the kids, but they also give me a seperate bowl of my own to eat for dinner, because they always dine on cere - pounded millet - which I simply cannot stomach. After lunch I might walk around town a little, talking with people in their homes, or go to the well, or visit the schoolteachers, or relax at home. At any rate sundown is around 7pm. By 6:30 I like to be back in my hut so I can enjoy my daily bucket bath. I sponge myself off with cool well water, which can be a little brisk on these cool evenings, but usually feels very refreshing. After that the sun has set, and most people stay at home. I take this time to read or write in my journal while waiting for dinner, which is at 8pm or so. Once dinner is done, my family tends to go into their rooms for the night, so I do the same. There, I'll read by flashlight until 10 or 11pm - I could sleep for 12 hours, but I refuse to let myself do so! Bad for the health, though tempting, as when everything is silent except for the sound of the crickets outside, there is not much incentive to stay up - and then brush my teeth and lie down under my green mosquito net for the night. And the next morning, as the sun rises over my tree-filled backyard in true African splendor, I do it all over again, waking to the sounds of women pounding or the scrape of twig brooms sweeping the packed dirt courtyards clean.