Happy Ramadan everyone!

It's Ramadan again! I wrote about Ramadan last year and about the things that people eat during Ramadan, so I won't go over the basics again. Last year, as a show of solidarity and out of curiosity, I fasted for one day, and I may do that again at some point. My host family understands that I'm not Muslim and wouldn't want me to actually do the day-long food-and-water fast for the entire month, both because it's not my religion and because they are (rightly, I think) convinced that I would probably get really sick if I swore off drinking water and eating during the day for four weeks. So, that means that, once again, I'll be stuck at the little-kid bowl at lunch time, or be given a bowl of ñankatonk (steamed rice mixed with dried okra, ground peanuts, bullion and hot pepper) to eat alone in my hut.

Really what's been on my mind, other than the terrible muddy state of our road, is my left big toe. Last December I injured it while biking in flip-flops (I know, I know) and a piece of the right half of the nail. It was doing a marvelous job of growing back in, right up until about a week ago, when it started to feel like the top right corner of the nail was in a knife fight with the top right corner of my toe. The Peace Corps doctor asked me to send her photos (see below) and then basically told me to soak it in warm water, keep an eye out for infections, be stoic, and just let it finish growing out. If I don't mess with it, it will sort itself out and I won't need to go up to Dakar to have them fix it. That's our hope, anyway.

My 4th of July polish is hanging in there. 

In any case, it's sunny and clear now, so the road is drying out. Tomorrow morning I'm going to head over to the garage and see if there are any cars going back to village. Until then I'll be hanging out on the Regional House porch, soaking my foot and trying to catch up on e-mail.

Meet the Family

My host mother Mariama, my neighbor and tokora (person with a same name) Adama, my host mother Saliou Njai, and baby Diabou shelling karite (shea) nuts to be punded and boiled into oil and shea butter.

Sajou Ba and Makaba, two of my many host brothers. They like me a lot.

Especially Sajou. He like to follow me around singing "Adama... Adama... Adama..." (That is my name.)

Mankaba and Diabou, my youngest host sibling. Over the last few weeks she's gone from being totally terrified of me to just sort of not liking it very much when I'm near her.

My host sister Mariama Gaulo. She's really smart, very responsible, and remarkably patient with me.

My host brother Mamadou. He's Mankaba's older brother, and a very good kid. 

My host sister Fatimatou.

Alaji, one of my host cousins. I'm pretty sure. He has a fancy moto and often comes over and eats at the bowl I share with my two oldest host sisters at dinnertime.

My host mother Saliou Njai, all dressed up in a complet for going out into the village.

Samba Diallo, a really nice neighbor. He, like many older people in village, is pretty much blind.

My host father and traditional chief, Sadat Souare. He teaches Koranic classes (kids come to learn about Islam and memorize verses from the Koran) most mornings, has a good sense of humor, and is just generally pleasant to hang out with.

This is my host grandmother. I think she's nice; I don't really understand about 90% of the things she tells me.

This is Diame, my youngest host mom's daughter from a previous relationship. She came back from a trip to another village with those nasty sores, and they've been steadily getting better over the last few days.

This is Sarif, my host dad's older brother, who is sweet but difficult to understand, both in French and Pulaar, and is also blind. He lives one hut over from me on the family compound, and we chat most evenings before dinner.

For anyone who didn't go to Camp Unalayee, this is what I look like when it's hot hot hot out, I'm wearing two layers of sunblock, and I haven't washed my hair in 12 days.

This is Bineta. I like her (and her 5-year-old daughter Diouma) a lot. I think she is my host cousin.

 Mankaba, Sajou, Diame, and a neighbor kid hanging around before dinnertime.

One of my host brothers playing in front of the satellite dish. We watch TV a few nights a week, usually when there's power and also a soccer game, traditional wrestling match, and/or an Indian soap opera on.

Diouma and her mom (my host mom) Kadje.

The view from the side of my hut at sunset.

Grinding up peanuts in the afternoon. (It is very fancy that my family has a grinder.) I'm lucky that all three of my host moms, my host sisters, and my host sister-in-law who also makes dinner, are all good cooks. I' also lucky that the family has enough money to buy onions, spices, and occasionally fish for the sauces that go over the rice at lunch and the couscous at dinner.

Ablaye is a cousin, I think, from the city of Tamba. I'm not sue why he lives with us right now.

This is my shadow on the karite/shea nuts drying in the sun.

One of the many chickens and a few of the adorrrable new chicks running around...

One of the goats and adorrrrable little kids...

Next up: How (and why) to make lotion out of Neem leaves!

Install Prep & How Hot It Is Today

Today I'm going to go into the market to finish buying things for installation at my site. Peace Corps gives us an installation allowance, and yesterday I bought a foam mattress, a couple trunks, some odds and ends, and a variety of buckets, tubs, cups, spoons, and kettles.

These are the type of kettles we bought for our latrines. I'm pretty sure toilet paper will not be available for purchase in our villages, so most people are going to be switching over to "the water method," which is what Senegalese people do. (People use water and their left hand to clean themselves off in the toilet, which is why it's really, really not okay to eat, greet, or do pretty much anything with your left hand here.) Most people also have a few of these kettle floating around for handwashing, teeth brushing, ablutions before prayers, and so on. Handy!

So. I could go one and write all about cultural insights and all the ways my life will change while living in Salémata, but really I just want to talk about how hot it is right now.

 

It's 8:30 in the morning at and it's already getting pretty warm. When there's a little wind it's much better, but yesterday afternoon the breeze died and the humidity went up to 112% (I checked on Wunderground) and coming back from the market was kind of like swimming through hot pudding.

The silver lining is that because it is so hot during the afternoon no one does anything except dozing in the shade, drinking water by the liter and eating mangoes. Could be worse.