A Mother's Recollection, Part II

Back in Kedougou, we walked through the market as Annē and Pat shopped for the needed ingredients for the big celebratory dinner the next day in Saraya. The temperature was definitely getting warmer, and we knew it would be even warmer in Saraya. I was very thankful that we had had gradual increase in temperature to get used to the heat. Leaving Kedougou, we saw fewer trees and began to see more of the gravity tables used for processing gold mined in the area. I could tell I was getting a little nervous as I started to practice again the Malinke phrases that Annē had given us.  Annē has a gift with languages, but unfortunately, she didn’t get it from her parents.  I knew from reading Annē’s blog how important greetings are, and in the truck Pat and Annē explained more things about the greetings to us, but I still had no idea how hard it would be to remember everything until we entered their village and plunged in.  We were truly entering into their world now. 

            

We dropped off out luggage in their hut and quickly looked around their home, but Annē felt we needed to meet their family and get our Malinke names.  However, to get to their family’s compound, we had to cross through their neighbors’ compound.  The greetings began.  I cannot imagine how it must have been for Annē and Pat as they learned the order of the greetings on their own and trying to remember everyone’s name.  Ritt and I had the two of them telling us what to say next. When we had talked with Annē before on the phone, sometimes she would speak briefly to others in Malinke.  Now we could really listen to them conversing in this dialect.  Finally, we walked into the Cissokho compound, and we met the parents, Sadio Tigana and Ibrahima Cissokho, who Annē and Patrick are named after, and other family members. Each new person we met, we started the greetings anew, but now we added our names. Ibrahima named us after his parents, Makhamba Singhora (the same name he gave to Kara) and Sambaly Cissokho.  After we left their compound, we walked some more and greeted some more. There is no rushing here. It was wonderful watching the villagers greeting Pat and Annē. Saraya cares about the two of them. We went to the tailor’s to pick up our fancy complet and boubou outfits Annē had made for us; it truly was going to be a big celebration.  

           

 Bringing our fancy outfits back to their hut, we had more time to see what they had done to make this home.  Pat had constructed an elaborate rigging system to hang things, even hammocks. No roof, but walls enclose their solar shower (you have to squat if you want to get any water flow from the shower nozzle) and latrine (I swear the hole is only four inches wide, but Ritt says it is six inches; Pat said they had made it wider than it originally was.  I kept thinking of all the times they have had diarrhea and how those experiences must have been).  Pat smiled when he told us it is interesting during the rainy season. They keep their clothes in trunks.  Much of their food is stored in plastic buckets to keep any little critters from getting to it.  They boil their water for coffee on a little propane stove.  In the mornings, Annē will go get water. They definitely have worked out a routine. Their electricity comes on for part of the day, so their floor fan shuts off around one in the morning.  And now the temperatures are already rising above 100 degrees. Camping can be fun for a weekend, but they truly are camping for two years.  We take so much for granted back in the States.  No wonder it was such a treat for them to be in France over Christmas and for the majority of time we were with them in Senegal. 

That afternoon, Karin, a PCV from one of the most remote Peace Corps villages in Senegal, came to their hut after biking 60 kilometers in the heat of the day.  Karen looked so hot, dressed in long sleeved shirt and long pants.  When we bicycled in 1976 through Kentucky, the temps were high 90’s and humidity almost as high, but we knew it would only be for a week or so.  We were young then.  I think you have to be young to be in the Peace Corps. 

Evening meant we would have our first communal dinner (everyone eating from the same bowl).  Women use their right hand and men spoons, but Annē and I also used spoons.  Before we left for Senegal, we knew we would have meals like this, but I do have to say it is a little unnerving to sit down for that first meal.  Pat had explained the correct way to eat--only from the area in front of you, no reaching into someone else’s area (no problem there), and leave some food (again, no problem; the bowl is huge). Rice with peanut sauce poured over it was the meal. This southeastern area of Senegal was definitely one of the poorest regions in the country.  Pat and Annē had their parents disperse the gifts we had brought over--soccer jerseys and balls from our niece Olga, jewelry from my book club, and baseball caps from Ritt’s collection, and dolls from Annē’s childhood and a thrift store. Annē and Pat had said even though these items were used, it would not matter, and it didn’t. 

After the meal, the musician arrived, playing a kora, a stringed instrument made out of a big gourd, a prelude for the next day’s music.  The women love to dance; Sadio and the other women smiled and laughed and clapped, urging each other into the circle to dance. Then when Annē joined in, the smiles and laughter increased.  I too joined in, hoping my moves might look something like theirs, but I quickly decided it really didn’t matter.  When Pat jumped in, the older ladies whooped and hollered.

 Earlier in the day, we had been invited to a Catholic get together, so after the musician left, we started walking to their place, but of course stopping and greeting others the entire time.  I made a comment to Pat that they must have to start out an hour earlier if they are trying to get somewhere, Pat answered that sometimes he rides his bike. Walking down the streets, we saw groups of people sitting outside watching the African Soccer Cup.  When we arrived at the house, it was easy to see that this home was so much fancier than other homes.   Awhile later, we asked to be excused since the hosts were still waiting for guests to arrive as Ritt and I were tired from our immersion into the Malinke culture.  Annē said she felt that she and Pat needed to return for the meal since they don’t want to affront any group (their family, the medical group, and the Catholics) in Saraya, adding that this can be a difficult and delicate balancing act at times.

The next morning, I watched Annē weave a piece of material between her fingers and remove it.  She would put that on her head and then place the filled water bucket on top of that. I knew she carried water that way, but to watch her in action is another thing.  I was impressed, especially knowing she had a ways to walk carrying that load on her head. 

     After a quick breakfast, we needed to put on our fancy clothes and get back over to the family compound, since we were the guests of honor and we were to watch the sheep (sheep look like goats in Africa), be slaughtered for the meal.  I wasn’t sure how I would react to the scene, hearing the sheep bleating, watching them cut its throat and then the blood flowing into the dirt. Ritt had experienced this years ago when he had lived with the Navajos for a short time, but I sure hadn’t.  I did fine; I was surprised, perhaps because I knew the family and friends would be having some good meat in their meal that day.  Pat said the men would cut out the liver first, skin it, then continue to cut up the rest of the animal. 

A short time later, the musician returned with a drummer playing a tamtam. Dance time again. This time more women showed up. I took my cues from Annē when I could join in with the group or with another one or two women, or even by myself.  Just like the previous evening, Sadio beamed as she danced alone, with her friends, or with Annē. Then the djembe drummer showed up with everyone excited saying the music was now complete. When the morning heated up, the dancing ended for the time being.  We went back into the shade structure where I started taking pictures of the children.  They love having their pictures taken, then rushing over to see the photos in playback mode. Watching family dynamics can be so interesting as the young ones definitely have to obey the older ones; they were constantly told to leave the shade structure if they got too rambunctious.  Ibrahima, the head of the household was very affectionate with his youngest grandson.  Women in the compound worked on preparing the meal, peeling potatoes, cutting onions and cabbage, stirring the rice and another grain.  I didn’t know if everyone would eat at the compound, but then I saw how they divvied up the portions, and soon women and children were taking dinner to different households.  Nine of us sat around our communal bowl under the shade structure. Then the dancing commenced again after our meal. 

The fourth round of dancing occurred under a shade tree with more women gathering and dressed up.  I really don’t know where the men had disappeared to; maybe they were drinking afternoon tea. Ritt and Pat and the musicians were the only males at the dancing. This time Ritt also did some solo dancing.  We were given thanks for the meal, the musicians, and the dancing.  We were told that Saraya did not go hungry that night although I know the meal did not feed everyone. 

During the earlier part of the trip, Pat and Annē had checked and written emails, texted, or made phone calls about various projects.  In Saraya, we saw more of their lives as Peace Corps volunteers. For several hours, Pat, Annē, and Karen conferred over the mercury project. For their projects, they had written grants for funding, made spreadsheets that showed the budget breakdowns, set up meetings with other PCV’s and community members, checked over surveys, entered data, reconfirmed meeting times and places, found new people to replace others, kept project money separate from their own. Before the grant writing could occur, they had to learn a new language, understand new customs, develop trust and relationships. So much mental and physical energy goes into the launching of a project and keeping one going. One also has to consider the hours spent traveling by bicycle or by sept (seven passenger) cars that usually break down or the overcrowded busses.  Then other glitches can occur; one volunteer talked about how he had the funding to build 40 latrines for his village, but most of the young men had gone off to the gold mines, so they may not get built. These volunteers have had to develop a new understanding of patience. From our short time in Saraya, Ritt and I have even a deeper respect for what they have undertaken.  Not many people can do or want to do what they are doing; it’s too hard. 

Pat with a retort, a device that traps the mercury gas when gold and mercury are burned in the processing of gold

The evening meant eating again, this time at Moussa’s restaurant (Pat’s community work partner); visiting the hospital and staff where we saw three malnourished children; going to the radio station to greet Sadio and Ibraham over the radio; and then saying goodbye. We had only been in Saraya for less than two days, so I was somewhat surprised at how emotional I got saying goodbye to Sadio and thanking her for taking such good care of Annē and Patrick. The bond of motherhood is strong. Maybe I could only speak a few Malinke phrases with her, but she is still their African mother. I probably would never see her again, yet this was the woman Annē was named after, Sadio’s namesake. I asked Annē to ask Sadio if I could give her a hug, and when I let go of Sadio, we were both wiping away tears. The emotional evening continued as we walked back to our compound only to be stopped for more greetings and good byes, and then we would be prayed over.  Like the greetings, the prayers can go on for a while, but the words were spoken with such sincerity.

We had two days of travel on our journey back to Dakar, but first we walked back over to the family compound, and again women prayed for our safe journey back home. This time only my voice cracked as we said good bye to Sadio and other family members, and they thanked us again for the wonderful meal and dancing. Karen was traveling with us as far as Kedougou, so we packed her bike in the truck as well as Pat and Annē’s bikes which we would drop off at the Kedougou PC Regional Center.  

Ritt talks about the various aid organizations he saw on the ground in Senegal; I think I was too absorbed taking pictures, probably of baobab trees. 

 Finally on our last day in Senegal, Annē told me I probably had enough pictures of the trees. Our last two visits in Senegal were with their first host family in Mbour and then Pape’s family.  Annē warned us it would be hard to get away with just a visit and not a meal at their former host family’s home, but we were having lunch with Pape’s family.  It was different having Annē and Pat addressed by their first African names, Fanta and Solouma.  Several times, her mother Aminata said not only should we stay for a meal but also we should spend the night, a reminder of how important hospitality is to this country. 

At Pape’s home, we got to meet his children also since they were home on lunchbreak, but we only ate with Pape and his wife, having our last communal meal.  There we saw his baby boy cry at seeing a white person for the first time. Since I only know a few phrases of French and could only take part in the conversation when Annē translated, I took pictures again of the children at both places.  Knowing only English can be very limiting, but a camera speaks its own language. 

We said our goodbyes to Patrick in Thies at the Peace Corps Training Center.  Ten days had gone by so quickly; we couldn’t have asked for better goodwill ambassadors during our stay in Senegal.  The four of us had seen so much, done so much, and learned so much, but now it was time to let them get back to their Peace Corps lives full time.  Annē would accompany us to Dakar and the airport the following morning before she returned to Thies. We said good bye to Pape as we unloaded our suitcases from his truck for the last time. That night back at Cap Quest Hotel, we ate our last meal together talking and listening to the ocean.

  Our trip to Senegal was all about people--Annē and Patrick sharing their new country and home; Pape driving and smiling; their families and friends in Saraya and Mbour welcoming us and sharing meals; a celebration of dancing and eating lasting for more than a day; other Peace Corps volunteers also welcoming us and sharing some stories; our guides showing us their part of Senegal; Senegalese people resting under the shade of a tree, waiting for a bus; school children walking to school, some in school uniforms, some not; women with babies on their backs and loads on their heads still moving so stately down the road; men praying and kneeling wherever when hearing the call to prayer; women talking as they shelled peanuts; little girls sharing a new doll; children smiling for the camera; elderly folks being blinded by their cataracts; soldiers heading off to war; and Ritt and I experiencing this country that could seem so different at times and at other times giving us flashbacks of similar experiences.