There is this joke in Senegal, I think the first person who said it was Leopold Senghor, the first president of independent Senegal: Senegal is 95% Muslim, 5% Catholic, and 100% animist. This explains why my Catholic host mom has a muslim magic man protect our house, and why both Catholics and Muslims wear gri-gris (protective charms) and slay animals and stuff to please their ancestors and protect them from harm. One time I bought some bracelets or something with these white shells on them, and someone told me that those shells will protect me from people talking about me behind my back. The reason this joke is "funny" is because people say it all the time and always think they're the first person who ever said it and laugh their heads off at themselves.
I realize that it has been an absurdly long time since my last blot post. Don’t worry: I’m still alive! It’s just life as usual in Dakar, but with building frustration with this place. I hate to complain, but this is just ridiculous.
Problem Number 1: Casamance
Meera and I were planning to spend a week in the southern part of Senegal, the region of Casamance. There was a war there because Casamance wanted to separate from Senegal, but things have cooled down in the past few years. Plus, it’s the most beautiful region of Senegal, it’s the most tropical and they grow rice there instead of peanuts, plus the people who live there, the Joola (or Diola) are really cool. (sweeping generalizations). Anyway. We bought tickets for the overnight boat to Ziguinchor, the biggest city in Casamance, 3 days before we were supposed to leave. The next day, our host mom went to a seer (gis-gis in wolof, in case you were wondering), who told her that if we went we would never come back and she would regret letting us go for the rest of her life (because it was clearly her decision). THEN, to add insult to injury, our family’s Muslim magic man, who is kind of a condescending ass, came over to tell our mom (not us) that we shouldn’t go. Then everyone in our family, including the maid, proceeded to lecture us about how it is unsafe there, blah blah blah, even though none of them has actually been there, ever, and despite the fact that we had 5 friends, all girls, who went and came back all in one piece, and our mom just wouldn’t stop talking about it until we left the next week to spend 3 days on the beach, away from this house.
Problem Number 2:
She is off work for 2-3 weeks.
But enough complaining. Good thing it’s 2 weeks until I go home; there’s nothing like a nagging fake mother to appreciate your real one, who treats you like an independent adult.
Other things that have been going on:
Toubab Dialao. It is a tiny fishing village about an hour south of Dakar (3 hours with traffic). There is this incredible hostel there (they are called auberges in french, which translates as hostel, but the really are more like hotels, except cheaper). The auberge is right on the water, and it’s this complex of buildings that are all decorated with shells and colorful tiles and cool shaped bricks, etc. Meera and I decided we needed a break from our host family, so we took of for four days of nothing. Literally. We laid on the beach and read, we laid in bed and read, and we ate delicious cheap food. Perfect relaxing time.
Mmmm, beach...
Shopping. Shopping in Senegal is nothing like shopping at home. Instead of malls, we go to markets. You can find everything you need at the market, and the big ones are open every day. The biggest market in Dakar, and the most intimidating if you’re new here, is Marché Sandaga. The other thing about markets: nothing has prices, and you have to haggle (waxale) for everything. This is where speaking Wolof is especially helpful, because they all try to rip off toubabs like crazy. So basically when you find something you like, you ask how much it is (nyata?), and then the vendor gives you a ridiculously high price, and then you laugh and give him a ridiculously low price, and the he acts really offended. Then you both budge a little until you find a price in the middle. Often, they try to teach you how to bargain, assuming it’s your first time even though you speak Wolof. “You see, you tell me how much you want to pay, but then you have to augment it, then I lower my price a little, and then we find a price in the middle”. Except they lower their price in increments of about 50 francs (10 cents) and expect you to raise your price by the thousands. It’s quite exhausting, and usually when Meera and I go shopping we set out with long shopping lists, then end up getting 2 things that aren’t on our list and getting tired. Then we go to this bakery near the market and get really expensive pastries and cappuccino. Yesterday, though, we both had a lot of stuff to buy and since Meera is leaving on Tuesday we were running out of time. So we started out with a nice lunch, then kept pushing each other through the market so we wouldn’t stop early. We ended up buying more stuff than we’ve probably bought the last 5 or so times we’ve been there, and there is nothing more satisfying than going home knowing that you’ve not only accomplished something, but also got a great deal. Of course, even when we think we’ve gotten a good deal, if people in our family ask how much we paid for stuff they usually laugh and tell us they could have gotten it for half the price. So we try not to talk about it.
