Beneath a Baobab: Stories from Sénégal

You wouldn't even recognize me

It's hard to believe that we are already heading into October. Since there has been no change in season, I still feel like it's summer. I do miss the fall foliage of the midwest, but I love being here more. The temperatures are hotter than ever, though my maman promises it starts to cool off in October. I actually think I'm adjusting to the climate. The Senegalese seem to complain about the heat more than me, but I think it's just a way of making conversation with the "tubaab" (whitey). But regardless, the constant layer of sweat perseveres.

It's funny how quickly you can change your ways. The other night, while lying on my rooftop terrace talking with Amelia, I commented on the fact that for dinner we had a big bowl of beef and macaroni, and at one point I was scooping up macaroni with my piece of baguette. Mmmmm, meat and carbs. I eat them like it's my job here. Fiber, I've decided, is for the weak and should be eaten only in moderation. Who needs whole grains, fiber, nutrients, and vitamins anyway. Also, I take a secret pleasure in littering my peanut shells or lollipop sticks on the ground. There is a major lack of public garbage cans. When possible, I save my garbage and throw it away at home, but sometimes, I just do like the Senegalese.

And so you ask, how do I stay in shape here since all I ever eat is meat and carbs? Despite my fear of gaining weight due to excessive amounts of oil used in the cooking, I think I may actually be losing weight here. I walk at least 1h15m every day, sometimes I walk up to 2 hours. I dance for 3 hours a week, and regular household chores, such as doing the laundry and mopping the floor work up a good sweat (as simply being awake does) and gets your heart going. Last night, I spent 2 hours hand washing, rinsing, and hanging my clothes to dry. Cleaning my room entails sweeping with the hand held broom, then bringing a bucket of soapy water and a towel upstairs. I get the towel wet, bend at the waist and use my hands to make semi-circles with the towel on the floor. I fear it looks like an awkward dance to anyone observing through my open windows.

And yes, I am much more domestic here. It is part of being a woman, and sometimes I have a hard time accepting that. I was at a birthday party on Sunday. After the 5 men I was eating with were finished, I asked my male cousin where I should bring the dish. Rather than just offering to bring it in himself, he showed me where the kitchen was so I could take it. Later, when we were back home, he wanted to know who was going to bring him a glass of cold water. The maid and I were the only ones in the room. I kindly and playfully explained to him, that he who wants the cold water should get himself the cold water. Ultimately, I think Kine, our maid, got it for him.

So women work their asses off here, but they are more respected here than they are at home. While talking with my neighbor, he said he would like to come to the states, but he will never move there. He has to stay close to his mother. All men love their mamas here. It's incredible.

I've had many a frustrating conversation here about politics and homosexuality. These are usually the two topics over which I disagree the most with the Senegalese. Many people here think Bush is a great president because he's a strong leader who knows how to make decisions. He is also against gay marriage. At the same time, when Bush came to Senegal, people were not even allowed to be on the street when his plane flew over. The residents of Goree Island were all locked into a basketball court while Bush visited the island. It is so embarrassing to be American at times. So anyway, my neighbor, Jules, was explaining to me why homosexuality is so wrong and dirty. He can't stand the thought of two men being together, but he can understand two women. Women, he explained, are beautiful, soft, pure, smart, caring, kind. (It's nice to be thought of in such high regard.) Men are cowardly and weak. He, in fact, thinks it's amazing, that a woman would choose to be with a man rather than another woman. I thought this insight into their opinion on homosexuality was worth sharing.

People here are wonderful. All bodily functions are normal and a valid topic of converstaion. For example, my brother came home Saturday night and explained to me he had a bad case of the runs. The next morning, Kine also had diarrhea and explained it was because she ate too many hot peppers. There is no shame or taboo for these topics. Underarm and leg hair doesn't bother men in the least bit. And men appreciate women with a fuller, rounder figure. "Jaay funde" (probably spelled incorrectly) is a compliment, meaning you've got a big ass or that you've put on weight.

As for Ramadan, it is well underway and manifesting itself in a very interesting way. The night life in all of Senegal is dull. The clubs just shut down for the entire month. Personally, I fasted for 3 days and decided that was enough. It was nice to be in solidarity with most of the people I see in passing, but waking up at 5 for breakfast and having to explain myself to my Catholic family was getting a little overwhelming. I also realized it's not good for my health, I'm not completely adjusted to this climate, and I have no religious or spiritual obligation to fast. I also just did not feel good after I fasted (no food, no drink) and then danced last Wednesday. But there's still plenty of time left in the month if I decide to give it another go.

So other ways in which I am aware of Ramadan include the scolding I received yesterday for drinking on the street since people are fasting. Or my neighbor explained to me that he doesn't wear his earring for the fasting month. But at the same time young Muslim men still make advances or invite you "to their bed" and don't worry "they'll bring the condom." I"ll tell ya, the novelty of being a white woman gets old pretty quickly. I also think this weekend serves as a funny anecdote about living in this predominantly Muslim country.

Friday, I went to a soccer game between two neighborhood teams. The electricity went out at the stadium, so the game was cut short. We returned to my friend Jayna's house and hung out with her brother and his friends until 4am. I did this again on Saturday night. The only thing I had to drink was Attaye, their delicious tea. Then Sunday, I went to a neighbor's birthday party with my family. The neighbor was Catholic, mind you, and so by 3pm on Sunday, I found myself more than tipsy. Ohhhh, Ramadan. I also had a meal of what I thought was fish and chicken. After the meal, I asked my cousin what type of fish it was and he explained it was all pork meat. I asked why the difference in textures of meat, and found out that all the fish I thought I'd been eating was actually the fat of the pig. Ironic that this was the last meal I had before the beginning of Yom Kippur. On that note, I feel a severe lack of Jewish identity here. I was going to fast, but since I'd been sick the night before from the pork and didn't start the fast properly, I decided it would be in my body's best interest to eat rice and drink water.

And on being Jewish in a Muslim country. I think I wrote this last time, there is nothing to worry about. For many people here, I'm the first Jew they've ever met. The other night Jules, my neighbor, told me that before he met me he'd had a bad concept of Jews and he was ashamed he'd thought that way. But now I have opened his mind. So I guess my journey here is more than just a personal one of growth and development; it is two-fold, if not three- or four-fold. I came to Senegal to learn and make connections with new people different from myself. In the long run, it seems that these connections are invaluable and seem to serve a greater purpose than just the friendships I develop.

And now, for some random thoughts and moments.
I wake up every morning to the sound of our maid using a hand-held broom whisking away the dirt on the sidewalk. A kind of futile effort if you ask me. Now I don't think twice about the goat bleating in my neighbor's yard. I actually find it comforting.

Amelia (one of my best friends from home) is off to her month-long retreat in Joff. It was so fabulous living 5 minutes from her here in Dakar.

Being a white female makes you a hot commodity. Therefore, many men introduce themselves and I have lots of "friends" in the neighborhood. Sometimes it can be frustrating, but it's comforting that while walking down the street, every 100ft, there's another group of guys saying hi. I feel safer that way. Being a white female also means the vendors at the boutiques want to talk to you, especially when you try out your Wolof on them. On average, 3 Senegalese people are helped before the clerk actually gets Jayna and I what we asked for before the other people came up to the stand. But I do love these little boutiques. They are everywhere, and you can get anything you need.

The situation regarding their electricity is worse than ever. On Monday, Mermoz, my district, only had electricity for 4 hours from 1-5pm. Here, if there hasn't been a power outage all morning or afternoon, you know there will be one during the evening or night and you plan your activities accordingly. I, unintentionally, live a very romantic life here, doing everything by candlelight. Candlelit dinners, showers, and homework. If only I had a quill pen and ink well... I do love showering by candlelight, the water illuminated by the golden glow of the candle affixed to the wall.

I sleep on the rooftop terrace a lot. It is so calm and tranquil. This weekend, I'd go to sleep around 4am. I'd lay under the stars and moon and listen to my iPod until I'd drift off to sleep. At 4am, Orion's belt is at approximately 11 o'clock overhead (if using the clock location method).

Last night, there was another power outage and just too hot to sleep inside. At 3am, I woke up to find a huge storm brewing in the distance. It quickly blew overhead and we felt a few drops of rain. The other family members and I gathered our things and went downstairs. Since the rain still hadn't arrived, except for those few drops, I rushed back up to make sure my clothes were all securely fastened to the clothesline. (Without fail, it rains every time I do laundry.) It was an incredible moment in my groggy slumber, feeling a rush of adrenaline, racing against Mother Nature to check all my clothespins. The strong winds blowing, my clothes flapping violently, the bright moon suffocated by thick cloud cover, and the gray light accentuated by momentary flashes of purple lightning. In the distance people were singing and playing the djembes, yes even at 3am. Their energy seemed to build with that of the storm. I could see the lighted city of Dakar and other districts who had electricity, and the winds and cooler temperatures felt so refreshing on my face. It was a magical moment up there on my rooftop.

And I think I'll close with that. More in the near future. Inchallah.

posted by Hannah Gelder @ 12:28 PM