Day 6: Layenne Festival and French

Without sandals I have been forced to wear shoes. Even worse, I have some 40 bug bites or some kind of rash on my feet, which feel like they are on fire. Wearing socks and shoes makes this even more uncomfortable, and I’ve started to just go barefoot almost anywhere. While this might sound a little dangerous in a city, I can assure you there is virtually no broken glass. These people do not drink Coronas or Heinekens from glass bottles, and any glass bottle they do drink out of is very thick and nearly unbreakable. Garbage is a huge problem in this area, but strangely, there’s no broken glass. So, I go barefoot. Meanwhile, the only thing that works for my burning feet is cold, running water. That’s not always available…but I’m coping/adjusting.

This morning class was scheduled at 9am. Because we’re on “Africa Time”, we got started at about 9:45. Everything is just slower here, no one really cares about time…Anyway, our teacher, Ousmane Pame is a really cool guy, he teaches in Dakar now, but has taught at Exeter in Great Britain. He speaks good English, but didn’t use much of it today. He says he really likes “blagues”, or jokes. He seems like a very fun guy to be around, it should be nice to have him teach us.

I will use this moment to explain my French abilities and how I’m getting along with them in Senegal: I took French for 5 years; from 7^th grade thru 11^th. I took AP freshman year, and honors for the next two, so I definitely had classes that should have taught me French. However, I have come to the conclusion that no French class could have prepared me for total immersion. It’s one thing to be able to fill out worksheets and talk about movies in French, but it’s totally another to rely on the language for pretty much anything you need to communicate. As for my French progress so far, I must say that my comprehension level has gone up by 100%. While in the beginning I understood very little, I am really starting to get a lot of what is said. Unfortunately, Senegalese speak in their first language most of the time (Wolof). When they talk to me, I ask them to speak French, and then I can understand. While my comprehension has improved a lot, my speaking hasn’t improved all that much. I’m sure that it will, it’s just a matter of getting confidence in speaking, which will come with taking French classes at Cresp. One thing is clear: by the end of this trip, I will be either fluent or near fluent in French, which is very exciting.

After our French class, we got a lesson from Faatula (a program assistant) about the Layenne brotherhood of Islam. The Layenne, based and founded in Yoff, my current location, believe that the second coming has already happened. They believe that Mohammed has already returned. For more info on the Layenne….go to Google or something. Anyway, the Layenne are having a huge ceremony today to mare the birthday of the man who they believe is the prophet returned. Although the prophet died years ago, people still celebrate his birthday every year.

After lunch, Rich and I walked down the beach to where the ceremony was being held, and where thousands of people were gathered. We observed, but didn’t get too close, because we didn’t want to invade on their space. However, Rich thought it would be a good idea to take out his camera and start photographing the kids on the beach. I told him he had no idea what he was getting into. Within minutes, he was swarmed and surrounded by twenty small children, demanding to have their pictures taken. I stood by and laughed. Meanwhile, two attractive older girls, about our age came up to me, and proposed that the four of us (the two girls, Rich, and I), go back to their house with them. I declined as politely as I could…

I finally pulled Rich away, and we had to tell the kids that his camera was “casse”, or broken. They followed us till we were about 100 yards from our house. Some of them were asking us to give them money or even the watches on our wrists…

After watching our first sunset from the roof of our roof (see pics), we hung out and then went down for dinner. For dinner we had spaghetti and beef, which again was another dish which I haven’t seen before. Tonight was a very funny meal, let me explain:

Note: when you see me in December, ask me to act this out, and I’ll be glad to show you.

When it comes to trying to get me to eat, the mother of this family is even more assertive than my on blood mother, and even my grandmother. Here, every time I try to say “I’m full” or in Wolof, “suur na”, I am told, “non, tu manges bien.” Usually, I persist, and they let me go. Tonight however was different. Throughout the entire meal, my mother was making fun of me for being small, definitely compared to Rich who is a swimmer for Umass, is 6’2”, and probably weighs almost as twice as much as I do. My “sister” was joining in as well, and we were all laughing together. When I was done, we had a conversation that went something like this:

Me: suur na

Mother: Suur na?? NO SUUR NA!!

Me: S’il vous plait, suur na.

Mother: Il faut manges bien! (you need to eat well)

Me: okay okay

So I continued, till I couldn’t eat anymore. I mean, I’m used to eating super burritos at Annas and half of a large pizza at T Anthony’s but this was a lot more than that… Just as I was about to launch my second attempt to go, one of my “sisters” came into the room carrying a plate with more beef. By that point I was the only person still eating, and my mother wanted me to eat more.

Mother: Manges Manges! (Eat, eat!)

Me: I won’t finish till tomorrow morning! (in French)

Mother: (laughs)

I ate one more piece of beef and got up, and left the table, groaning. They continued to laugh at me and they probably still are…it was quite a funny night. They would later tell me that if I eat this way for 2 weeks, I will be “grand comme Rich” (big like Rich). I hope so, but I’m guessing it will take more than two weeks…