My Saving Graces

So lately I’ve been the only twobaab within a 30-mile radius- a strange feeling indeed.   It’s pretty much celebrity status without all the red carpet.  My first three weeks within my village have been really great, but also really frustrating.  Sometimes, I swear the Senegalese culture was made to just piss off Americans.  They do this hissing noise whenever they want to get your attention that drives me nuts.  And also, they have no concept of line formation.  You could be standing, waiting your turn in a boutique (small shop) and someone will come up from behind you, start shouting at the keeper, throw him some money, and get exactly what he wants, when you’ve clearly been waiting your turn..  The kids, though, are Senegal’s saving grace sometimes.   They are the cutest, most helpful, happiest creatures I’ve ever come across.  Last week, I was battling my first African illness, and the thought of them put a smile on my face even in mid-vomit.  They are my favorite thing in Senegal by far.

Everyday I wake up around 6AM to the sound of chickens, hens, goats, and donkeys.   I doddle around my hut- cleaning, sweeping, washing clothes, cooking oatmeal- until around 8, when I go to greet my family.  Now, I don’t know if I’ve told any of you about Pulaar greetings, but they are nothing but “nutso.”  No joke they spend half their day greeting each other.  A typical one goes like this:

Person 1: You woke up?

Person 2: Peace only

1:  How are you with tiredness?

2:  Peace only

1:  How’s your household?

2:  They are in peace.

1:  How’s your work?

2. Peace Only

1:  How are your children?

2:  They are in peace.

1:  How are you with the heat?

2.  It’s fine.  (PS it’s not fine, one day I stuck my temp reader out there to see, and it read 136F-and then I decided ignorance was bliss and to never do that again)

1: How are you with the wind?

2: Peace only.

Really, this can go on forever…for every person in the village.  To not greet someone is considered especially rude… to hock a loogey mid-convo, however, is not.

On the up-note, my sister-in-law just had a baby the other day, and they named it after me! A new “Penda Sow” in the world.  To them, it doesn’t really mean much to name a child after someone, but I was thrilled.  Before she was born they said that if it was a boy, they said they would name it after my real dad in America.  I couldn’t help but hope it was going to be a boy, because 

a).  the thought of having a little Rick running around the African bush is hilarious to me

 -and- 

b). it was also hilarious to watch them try to pronounce the word "Rick."