Without getting into all of the archetypal arguments against/for (depending on who you are) western or industrialized or what-have-you living, even putting aside fast food and supermarkets…the life I am used to is exceedingly sterile and well, removed. Whereas my present situation is a bit more hands-on. And that’s to be expected. This phenomenon, however, goes beyond my being presented with a fish in all of its glorious entirety my first week—an honor clearly reserved for me, their guest, as the rest of the family had the usual rice dish that night—and picking off all edible bits with just my fingers…
This weekend I learned how to do my laundry. My first few laundry days (Sundays), I timidly handed over some of my dirty clothes to Marie, my sister, and found them neatly stacked and folded on my bed by evening. But unsure of how I felt about having my family do my dirty work, and curious about what laundry entails, I followed Marie and N’Deye to the roof this past Sunday and so I present to you….
How to Do Your Laundry, Really:
1) Clean telephone wires crossing your roof area with rag.
2) Fill two tubs with water.
3) Sort your clothes into four piles: whites, lights, darks, and blacks
4) Immerse whites in tub #1.
5) Rub big bar of soap (hand soap? special soap?) all over clothing item #1.
Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. Use knuckles and make squelching noise that I seem incapable of producing. Be prepared for bubbles up to your armpits.
6) Artfully twist item #1 into compact circle of sorts and rid of all water.
7) Submerge item #1 into water of tub #2.
8) Dunk repeatedly until free of soapsuds.
9) Wring thoroughly.
10) Turn inside out and hang on telephone lines with two brightly colored laundry pins.
11) Repeat steps 1-10 for all clothing items, moving from whites to blacks as such thorough washing will cause the dye to run in even the most well loved of shirts. (I was amazed to see my ancient Cambridge Youth Soccer Shirt leave the soapy water a lovely shade of teal.)
12) If possible, look out over the other rooftops and enjoy the myriad colors and patterns strung across the village like prayer flags.
The weekend was fairly uneventful, as evidenced by my lengthy description of clothes washing. Actually, that’s not true. On Saturday we ate and shopped our way through Dakar. I only participated in the former. I am attempting not to buy souvenirs until the end of my time here; I want to get a sense of fair prices, which artifacts actually hold some significance and which are just silly tchotchkes sold to toubabs looking to add that ethnic flair to their homes, etc.
Valentines Day was like any other day. Just how it should be. None of the fuss over proving your love for all acquaintances—friends, family, parents—through the purchase of mass-produced cards, flowers, and chocolates. My mom had sent me some of those Necco hearts with the messages on them (which, by the way, I am eating right now and just found one that said “IM ME”!! tres bizarre) so I distributed those and attempted to explain the cultural significance, but had trouble doing so without sounding like the cynic I am.
We did go out to hear some music that night at an outdoor Dakar nightclub, Central Park. A celebration of sorts, I suppose. I found myself floored by the pricey menu: 2500 CFA ($5) for my garlic pasta. It’s all relative. The opening act was wonderful—a soulful young man playing the acoustic guitar, crooning slow tunes with the aid of friends on the base and bongos. My Senegalese friends know the guy and I hope to be getting his CD soon…. The featured act was Masane (sp?), a spirited chanteuse and local favorite. She just sparkled all over, from her silver-embroidered get-up to her smile and her voice, her voice was beaaautiful. I, however, was exhausted and stayed only for about three of her songs before catching a taxi home.
Yesterday, I got word that I had two packages waiting for me at the post office downtown (Dakar) and went this afternoon with a Senegalese friend, Fatou, who helped me bargain with Customs. My dearest Maman had sent me two boxes, one containing staple foods (peanut butter, food bars, soup, almonds) to get me through the rough (gastrointestinal) periods and one containing gifts for my family. Though I had arrived equipped with a few gifts, once I got to know my family I thought of some specific items they might enjoy.
Before lunch, I presented N’Deye with a smallish box and told her that it contained gifts for the family which she could distribute accordingly. She gave me a big huge smile, a slap of the hand, and said thank you without so much as opening the box. Wanting to explain some of the gifts (such as the gummy lobsters), I opened it up and fished around. She caught a glimpse of the two pashmina shawls I had requested especially for her and I suddenly felt her hand on my arm. She looked at the shawls, tidily packaged in plastic, and looked at me. I removed the shawls—one royal blue and one periwinkle blue—and draped one around her shoulders and the other across her lap. She screamed. Laughing, and clapping, and screaming some more, she thanked me repeatedly. One of her most beloved belongings, as far as I can tell, is a worn gray shawl with satin roses dangling from loose threads and I wasn’t sure if she would be receptive to a new shawl (or two!). But was she ever. So that was nice.
I’ve just started in on my Service Learning project—tracing produce from the fields of the Niayes (the main growing area that stretches along the coast from Dakar to St. Louis in the North) to the markets in Yoff. On Monday, my partner in this endeavor, Ronald, and I visited Dakar’s wholesale produce market, Thieroye (sp?). This visit and project deserve a separate entry…I’ll get on that.
Similarly, I do want to write about my classes at some point. Preferably in the near future. But doing so would require that I explain this concept of an “ecovillage.” And that would require that I know what I am talking about. Hopefully, between now and my next entry, I will stop being lazy and attempt to synthesize some of what I have been learning.
I leave you with a shot of my family (Macoumba, my dad, excluded) and some of their gifts…..
