Tuesday, January 29, 2013

To the village on the back of the donkey cart, by Chaney (Mom of Nafi)



My husband and I traveled to Senegal from December 24, 2012 through January 8, 2013 to visit our daughter during her second year in the Peace Corps. The highlight of our travels was the time we spent with Cibyl in her village.

We arrive by “Sept-Place”( a 7 passenger Peugeot diesel wagon) at the little town of Mampatim at dusk. Cibyl has called ahead to her village to send for the donkey cart. Backary, a teenager from Cibyl’s compound hails us from the other side of the road leading a donkey attached to a small flatbed cart with two car wheels. Stephen and Cibyl ride bikes the 7 km to Saré Pate Bouya and I, with our luggage tied on, ride on the back of the donkey cart.

Who would ever have imagined me,at age 62, riding on the back of the donkey cart, my legs swinging out the back over the dusty dirt road to a small Senegalese village?

As we near the village I can hear many voices and the rhythm of drums. Backary turns into Cibyl’s compound and 30 or more children surround the cart singing a song of welcome. I see many little hands reaching out to touch mine and I start to cry. It is such an emotional yet joyous way to be welcomed to village !

 In front of Cibyl’s hut we are introduced to the chief’s wife and Mamadou the chief’s son or nephew (family connections are a bit vague in this part of the world). Women and children form 2 lines in front of us and while two women work the drums, other women take turns dancing vigorously. They are singing, “Nafi’s Mama has arrived!”. Nafi is Cibyl’s Mandinka name.

Fetching water

The well is several hundred yards from Cibyl’s compound. She takes two large buckets and long cloths to twist on top of the head for carrying buckets back to the hut. Several women are at the well filling containers. There are two pulleys with buckets attached. It’s a cooperative effort to fill the buckets from the 80+ foot well.

Like a dance, Cibyl and another woman work hand over hand hauling the bucket. We put a cloth on Steve’s head and hoist the bucket up. Cibyl carries the other bucket. Clothes and dishes are washed and, there is small amount of water left to warm in the sun for an evening bucket bath.

To the health hut

On the way to the health hut, we greet the families in several compounds. Cibyl’s namesake, ‘Nafi’, is ill. She gets up from her bed to greet us gives us warm hugs and kisses. She has a cough and chest pain with severe headache. Someone has constricted her chest by tying a cloth tight around it. Cibyl tells her to take the constricting cloth off and to steam eucalyptus leaves with head covered over the steaming bowl.

At the health hut, Cibyl looks up other medicinal plant recipes. She decides to make an infusion of eucalyptus oil. Back in her hut Cibyl sends some flowers and leaves from the Madagascar Primrose to Nafi for throat-soothing tea.


The Concoran on his back !

“Quick everyone, hide in your huts. The Concoran is here!” Part yeti, part boogey man, the Concoran dresses in bark and bangs machetes around the compounds. This is part of the boys’ circumcision ceremony. Cibyl has written a full description (see below). We feel lucky to have witnessed the arrival of the Concoran. The banging of machetes goes on throughout the night intermingled with the braying of donkeys.

Mandinka

Cibyl takes us to greet residents of each compound of the village. There are over 27 compounds ranging in size from a few family members to 30 or more in an extended family. The villagers call out Cibyl’s Mandinka name “Nafi”. There’s an elaborate exchange greetings:

            Kor Tanante- [Villager]
            Tanante [our response]
            Sumooley [Villager]
            Eebeejay- [our response]
            Jemool Dung [Villager]
            Eebeejay- [our response]

Cibyl enters into a full conversation. We look on in awe. Nafi is fluent in Mandinka!

Sometimes an elder showers us with blessings. “Bless your family, bless your health”. Cibyl taps her forehead with her hand and tells us to do the same. "Ameen" she says and we follow suit.

We learn a few more words:

            Herra- peace
            Abaraka- thank you
            Nam- I am here

I like Mandinka. They roll their R’s” just like you do in Spanish and so some of the words come easily to me.

A number of villagers have told us that Nafi is now Mandinka, a full-fledged member of this 500+ person village. She is Senegalese through and through they say. I try to tell them that I’m happy that Nafi now has a family in Sare Pate Bouya. I tell them we miss her very much and look forward to her home coming to America.

Our last night in Sare Pate

We have brought fruit candy with us. Each is cut in half. Cibyl walks from one fire to the next distributing the sweets. The children follow with hands outstretched for more! Dinner is meager. We have brought rice and lots of vegetables to the village but this is gone by the third night. This fourth night’s meal consists of rice with a few beans for the guests and rice with a rather slimy leaf sauce for Mamadou and his nephew who eat with us each night.
Food is served in a common bowl. There are several family units and each sits outside their hut around the common bowl. The sauce, meat, vegetables or some combination of these is heaped in the middle over the rice or millet. Each person scoops bits of these condiments into their area of the bowl. Some eat with their hands, others with spoons. There is a polite little rice bridge between each person’s area of the bowl. Leftovers are then brought to the women’s hut and finished by the children and women or saved for breakfast. We try our best to eat appreciatively while leaving as much as possible for the women and children.

Cibyl tells us about starving time which I think is coming soon. During this time only two meals are served per day for lack of food. This way of life is hard to fathom. Chickens run freely through village – no one keeps a coop to be able to collect eggs. Sheep and goats are everywhere and are very occasionally slaughtered but no one milks them. In mango season, there is so much fruit that is left to rot; no one is drying mango fruit for hungrier times. Cows are the family bank and are sold only under dire circumstances. Even a toddler suffering from malaria and needing a doctor’s care does not warrant the sale of a cow to pay for the medicine. Nafi generously covered this cost for one of the toddlers in her compound

It’s very hard for us Westerners to understand the culture. My brain keeps churning out solutions:

  • Create a community garden
  • build chicken coops
  • milk the goats to give the children some much-needed protein
  • make cheese or yogurt with the rest
  • sun-dry the tomatoes and mangoes for future use
 Cibyl-Nafi wisely explains much of this has been tried and has failed. You remind yourself to appreciate small things. Nafi encourages use of the Moringa tree in the village, an amazing plant with nutritive medicinal qualities that grows easily in village. She grows medicinal plants next to the health hut. Hopefully when her service ends,  a villager or two will carry on where she left off.

  
And there are big things happening thanks to”Nafi”. She has written a grant and pit latrines are now installed in each compound. Mamadou’s youngest wife is now on birth control thanks to Nafi’s influence. Most recently, she’s been speaking with the middle school and elementary school staff about a well project and latrines at the middle school….

As we drift off to a fitful sleep in Nafi’s hut, we are awakened through the night by donkeys braying . Is it mating season? And in the early hours before dawn, we once more are awakened by the clanking of the Concoran’s machete.

Click here and here for Chaney and Steve's Senegal photo albums.



2 comments:

  1. Great post - emotional - foreign - bonding - we are in an alternative reality here in California. Thank-you for taking the time to post. Critique: link to pics doesn't work or perhaps I am techno illiterate.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Figured out pics. Thank-you. Lloyd

    ReplyDelete