me & me

Dancing girls

I've uploaded a bunch of Tabaski photos on my photo album for you to look at, if you care. I only included one of the slaughtered sheep. Here's a video of Maim and Saratta dancing. Aren't they adorable? 

Tabaski

Today was Tabaski (a.k.a. Eid al-Adha), the biggest holiday of the year in these parts. It was an exotic mixture of sights and sounds, nearly all of them having to do with the festive slaughtering and cleaning of the sacrificial lambs. 

One of the most startling moments of the day came this morning. It's the cold season, so we were all huddled around the cook-fire, and I asked the teenagers why we celebrate Tabaski. I knew, but I wanted to hear the story from them. 

Their response? Blank stares. I'm serious – they had no idea.

So I told them the story of Abraham and Isaac and the sheep, saying there might be some slight variations, but that's the gist of it. Oddly, this little revelation came right after Thaine (teenage sister) told me that she has given up wearing hair-weaves, because the Koran specifically forbids it. She was adamant on that point. Funny how that stuck with her...

All in all it was a really good day. I acted as the official photographer (I hate taking photos, and they make me do it all the time), limiting everyone to two posed portraits. People wore their best clothes, new ones if they could afford it. And per tradition, the women ate lunch in my hut because it was a holiday and that's what we do on special days. 

Oh, one very bizarre moment. Before skinning the ram, they cut a slit in the back leg then stuck a bike pump in it and pumped air into the animal so it would be easier to skin. The dead sheep inflated! Once again – I'm not joking. 

Never having been a hunter, or participated in field dressing, well, any animal, I don't know the usual procedure. I'm fairly sure we don't do this in the states though. Please email me if I'm wrong.  

We ate meat all day, and I could have done without some of the parts. Remember hearing as a child how the Native Americans were such responsible hunters because they used all parts of the bison, wasting nothing? That was supposed to impress us, and it did – now I feel differently. I don't want the eyes in my lunch dish. In fact, there were several organs today that I would not have included. 

I got lots of gruesome photos, but I'll only put one up here (if it loads). I can see why the French object to French Muslims performing this sacrifice in their bathtubs. I wasn't bothered today, but if it happened next door to my apartment I might lodge a complaint with the building super (and I apologize if that's offensive - not sure how often that occurs). 

Well, photo took too long to load so I'll post this one because today was special for another reason:

 

P.S. I've been sick lately, so I got out of going to mosque. That was an added bonus. 

No, I will not help you.

I am not a good person to visit when you're sick. All I'll tell you to do is drink water and rest. I've stuck to this system for awhile, and if baffles me that people continue to ignore consistent evidence of my meanness. 

Of course people get sick here. All the time (if you've read the previous post, please believe me that I am much nicer when I suspect someone is truly ill). I've seen people pluck a feather from a passing chicken to pick their teeth. I bought a bean sandwich the other week from a woman who sneezed on my open sandwich as she was making it (yeah, I ate it - there's a time and place to be picky and that wasn't it). We all eat from the same bowl for God's sake. 

Sickness usually passes. Take Guiro for example; last week he was complaining of a persistent headache. I suspected dehydration, which is usually the case, and told him to drink water. Guiro hates this advice and opted for "African" medicine, buying a twenty cent piece of cloth that had small pieces of charcoal sewn to it. After wearing the cloth around his head for two days the headache disappeared. He has to wear his charcoal halo for another five days to make sure the headache is completely gone.   

See? I did nothing. At some point Guiro drank water, or the medicine did it's magic ... it had a happy ending and I didn't have to break out my med kit. If you think that's heartless, you're naive. If I passed out ibuprofen just once, I would be cleaned out in an hour.  

I am less sanguine about my own illnesses, however. My little brother Amadou came to me last week complaining about a sore throat. I looked sympathetic and gave him the "water and rest" line then promptly forgot about him. 

Now, I'm not saying Amadou intentionally placed himself next to me at the food bowl last week, but whatever his methods the kid managed to get me sick. My tonsils are swollen and I understand what he meant when he claimed that it hurt to drink the water I prescribed. 

I was feeling so annoyed/guilty about Amadou that I bought him some cookies today as penance. He probably would have preferred some medicine last week, but as I said - that's not going to happen. I'm taking it instead.  

incredible

I know I said I was taking a break from blogging, but something amazing has happened. I have internet in my hut. Yup, you read that right. No running water, but for $40 I was able to buy a telephone that doesn't need a phone jack, and it provides me with a dial-up connection. 

I don't know how many of you properly appreciate how amazing this is, but it doesn't really matter what you think because I'm ecstatic. Of course, I have to lock myself in my hut to use it because the computer is a secret. 

In other news, school was canceled today because one of the students, a 14-year-old boy, died. People are guessing he died from malaria, but that was never confirmed because family didn't have the money to take him to the doctor. 

A doctor's visit would have cost less than $5. 

Funeral processions don't really get to me, I'm used to seeing dead people go by on donkey carts. Today's procession was eerie though. We didn't know him in my compound, but everyone was upset when his body passed. I think because we all know it was preventable. They're poor here, not stupid. 

taking a break

I'm planning to take a break from blogging. Life in village has been going well. School has started here, and I am anticipating the first strikes next week. In the meantime I am eagerly anticipating Meg's visit and going home for Christmas.

I might check in before January, but I'm making no promises. 

filler post

I was in another compound today around the time the village child care center let out. If you're surprised that we have preschool here, I am too. It doesn't compare to Grace Methodist Preschool (my alma mater), but it is a government-run program and the children seem to have fun.

Anyhow, I was in someone's compound when the center let out, and the children from my compound and the compound next door to mine walked by. I guess they saw me inside and decided to wait for me for the walk home.

It was really sweet, but also really funny. I was in the middle of a conversation when 6 children under the age of 5 swarmed into the compound. They started climbing all over stuff, walking into huts … The funniest part was no one missed a beat. They poked into everything, and the conversation never even paused.

I admit to getting annoyed when I'm stuck sitting next to a small child at the dinner bowl. They always have runny noses (dripping into the bowl) and touch my food. At the same time, I do love how much children are a part of life here. There's no such thing as adult-time of adult-activities. Now that I'm writing it, sure – that can get old – but it's still kind of nice.

hmm

My fan broke today. I repaired it with duct-tape and super glue. I used this combination on a dresser once in college. At the time I wasn't sure whether I should be proud my resourcefulness or embarrassed because I had no carpentry skills.

I'm feeling the same way now.

tricky

So it's Armistice/Remembrance/Veterans Day. Britain's Remembrance Day events were Sunday, and that morning's broadcast almost had me in tears. I listen to a lot of BBC.

During breakfast I tried to explain to my family about Armistice Day, but I royally screwed it up. I think everyone left thinking it was a day of prayer somehow related to the “idea” of war. We basically all ended up agreeing war and violence is a bad thing, then left it at that.

Come to think of it, I might have thrown the execution of the D.C. Sniper into the conversation too. Shoot.

Coke and terrorism

Tonight, after some cajoling, my site-mate, Dorothy, came with me satisfy a craving for a cold Coca-Cola. As Dorothy says, whenever we do this it's like we're in a Coke commercial. It's sweltering, the bottles are icy, and everyone around us it thirsty.

Anyhow, we walked into the roadside “boutique” to get the Cokes. It's run by Mauritanians. They own a lot of boutiques in Senegal. It's odd, because you hardly ever see them outside the stores, it's their self-contained little world. All the stores seem the same too, about 6 men, alternately sleeping on the floor, eating or watching television. I also get the impression they don't like western women.

Tonight was different. The television was tuned to an Arabic station and a grinning man asked us if we knew the man speaking. I barely glanced at it, only registering a fluffy gray beard, before saying “of course,” and grabbing the Coke I was so intent on getting.

He was uncharacteristically friendly though, so when we were sitting outside with Cokes in hand, I asked Dorothy why he was so happy.

“Um, I think that guy was the leader of Hezbollah,” she said.

Oh.

When we went back inside I asked him if it was in fact the leader of Hezbollah, prompting him to nod furiously and say something about their “wonderful strength in 2006.”

We just smiled back awkwardly and left. As Dorothy said later, “I'm not pro-everything Israeli, but ...” and she trailed off. That's exactly how I felt. 

P.S. I also managed to ruin Dorothy's Coke for her. I only drank half of mine (caffeine keeps me up, I'm like a child) and handed it to two boys walking by to finish. Well, they were like a flock of seagulls, gathering around Dorothy and staring at the Coke in her hand. The poor girl finally just gave up and handed it over.

village abortions

Tonight's after dinner talk was about a woman not far from here who received a 10-year prison sentence for accidentally killing her pregnant daughter during a botched abortion.

The story was bad enough at first. The girl, estimated to be about 13, was a student. This happens all the time here, young girls drop out of school due to early pregnancies (see this article about my area).

The mom gave her “medicine” to illegally abort the child, and both the girl and unborn baby died. Sad, right?

During the discussion about the sentence I asked about the person who sold the mother the “medicine,” weren't they also culpable?

No.

The “medicine” is a bleaching agent used in laundry, a blue powder sold in 20 cent packs. Apparently it is also a common home-abortion method.

I didn't get numbers, of course, but my family tells me women use it a lot. I don't know why I'm shocked. Sure, the powder turns the water bright blue, but it's less cringe-inducing then a coat-hanger.