My host-uncle is living here for a few months and I am reaping the benefits. The good news for me is that he is a diabetic and ….. wait for it…. he gets salad every night! As a Senegalese man this is a sad, sad fate, because as we all know the Senegalese don’t like veggies. The salad is really just lettuce with a delicious onion sauce, but it leaves me feeling better guarded against scurvy. Scurvy is like gout or the rickets; I’m not very clear on the particulars, but I want no part of it.
Anyway, the salad’s really nice. I don’t get it every night, just the nights my host mom doesn’t feel like cooking two separate dinners (he’s a man so he eats by himself). I’m the only person enjoying the arrangement, salad is not popular in this house, and the younger kids seem especially irritated.
During every meal here my host mom or Mami, the 18-year-old girl, is throwing food in front of me. We all eat from the same bowl and five minutes in the meal, without fail, I am the one with the largest mound sitting in front of me. It’s a cultural thing, nothing I can do. Anyway, fed up with salad, the littlest girl,
Natalie, 7, decided she would be clever and toss her own portion in front of me too. One second Natalie was reaching over and depositing lettuce in front of me, in the next instant I heard a shriek and saw poor Natalie gets whacked (hard) on the head. She had used her left hand!
The left hand is foul, foul, foul. Natalie should have known better, but I can’t hold it against her because I forget a lot of the time myself. In fact, just today I used my left hand while eating from the same bowl as one of my teachers (he’s used to dirty Americans though).
The interesting thing is that it doesn’t phase me too much anymore seeing Natalie or other kids take a hit like that. Americans (and I think Europeans too) are super gentle with their kids, in part because no one wants to be labeled a child abuser. At least we are really indulgent compared to the Senegalese and, from what I hear, the rest of Africa. It’s nothing here for a sibling to turn around and hit another, or for an adult to slap someone else’s child or their own upside the head.
The other day Mamadou, the 2-year-old, started screaming because he picked up some hot cooking spices and put them in his mouth. I was the one who ended up getting him a cold drink because everyone else was laughing too hard. Another time Natalie fell off a table and hit her head - more laughter.
The result is I am always vaguely surprised when I witness a tender moment, or if everyone exclaims over something cute Mamadou did. At home I’m used to everyone marveling at how adorable my niece and nephew are (totally appropriate by the way, they are adorable), it‘s everyone‘s favorite conversation. The Africans obviously love their children too, but it’s no one’s trying to prove it. So when they do find Mamadou cute, I’m briefly thrown and it takes me a minute to get my bearings. By then everyone’s over it and I never get to hear the endearing stories.
Oh well. Someone send me some news on Jake and Charleigh, I love hearing what they are up to. The pictures of them with the rabbits were great. For some reason there were pictures of the garage and a water leak included in that parcel as well - I didn’t enjoy those quite as much, but still appreciate the thought and loved getting a package.
the water leak occurred above my CLOSET if you get my drift. Wet fabric everywhere.
It was so significant I felt you, in Senegal, should see some of the damage.
Posted by: mom | April 16, 2008 at 07:58 PM