A blogworthy day if I've ever had one! It started out so slow and ended in a bang. I definitely experienced the full range of human emotions today. And I feel like each portion really needs its own blog but I don't really have the time or battery power to make that happen, so here we go.
This morning was slow. Really slow. Well, for me at least. Everyone else was in the midst of a major house cleaning and getting ready for Tabaski and the millet sacrifice, both coming up fast. It was one of those times where there was so much to do that no one really had time to teach me to do anything or tell me what I could do to help. I was more in the way than anything else, so I just held Birane and waited. I guess I helped a little bit with the laundry, but that hardly counts. I was also really tired because I slept poorly last night (something didn't sit well with my stomach...bummer). And lunch just really wasn't all that fulfilling, which normally wouldn't bother me, but I had really been craving a delicious saucy Senegalese lunch and it didn't happen.
So I was just sort of existing here chez Binta. I was starting to feel like I was in a rut again, starting to lose my good spirits.
And then Binta came out dressed fancy, looked at me a little sideways, and asked if I was ready to go. Apparently Mame Ndiaye's aunt died (that gave me the impression that she was old, but in reality the deceased was a young woman, not yet married or with children) and we were about to go to the funeral. In fact, Joe was already off fetching the donkey that would drag our butts to Gague for the service.
This was all news to me! I think it's easy to forget that the toubab doesn't understand most of the conversations around here because everyone laughed and apparently they'd been talking about it quite a bit. So they threw me back in the boubou I wore to the wedding last week and about ten minutes after being told I was leaving, I was sitting on the cart with Joe and Binta and one other lady, ready to hit the road.
It was at this point that the familiar feeling of being someone's pet began to return. Much like my frustration with the wedding the week before, no one had consulted me about wanting to go to the funeral. It seemed like a private event that would be rude for me to encroach upon, but then I told myself to snap out of it. Clearly I was going and it would only make things seem longer/more painful for me to whine internally about having to go at all. Binta was offering me a really special chance to see a unique part of Serer/Senegalese culture that I otherwise would have no access to.
So there we were. In Gague. We did the typical rounds of salutations and ate a little rice and meat and then we sat. By this point my impatience was gone and I was interested in what was going on. The genders were separated, although it seemed more by choice than anything else. No one in the yard was talking, only an occasional whisper or donkey braying could be heard. I didn't know what we were waiting for, but it was clear that everyone was waiting for something. Then a car, clearly carrying the body, pulled up. It was then that the crying began. I don't mean crying as in tears, that was going on all the while, I mean crying as in shouts of anguish so profound they send chills down your spine. This tradition is forbidden during Muslim burial/funeral ceremonies, but is a traditional part of Serer rituals. Binta was explaining (I think) that it is a way to let others know that there is a deceased member of the household. I had never heard such anguish expressed in a human voice before. There was one woman who seemed to be crying “WHY?” over and over again. I know she probably wasn't speaking English, but it sounded like it to me. And it was very appropriate. After the body was brought in (they brought the corpse directly into a tented area where only very immediate family would go for the traditional washing and other rituals), the crying continued. After awhile, important friends, family, and colleagues of the deceased spoke and the body was carried out and to the cemetery to be buried. I didn't attend the internment, but when most everyone else had gone, a group of women stayed behind, pounding grains. I don't really know why, but there were so many of them that the ground shook. Overall, it was a very moving experience. I have been to funerals before, but never have I been to one with the pain so audibly expressed.
So the funeral was over and it was time to go back to Mbam. Binta had a car waiting, but I opted for the donkey cart with Joe (following Pape's, of course) instead. I am so glad I did. The air was fresh and the sky was mostly clear. The stars are so bright here and the moon is getting close to full. The landscape is gorgeous and there are really no lights to speak of when you're out on a road that runs through fields of peanuts, millet, and hibiscus plants. The donkey attached to our cart was sort of hilariously angry. Every time Joe whipped it (something that it took me a few weeks to get accustomed to. I still tend to flinch every time, but an slowly getting used to it) the donkey kicked its hind legs into the cart. Apparently he hasn't been trained much yet (or so Binta said). The cart was pretty light with only the two of us, so that donkey really got us going fast. I was so sublimely happy, sitting in a fancy dress, without any shoes, and riding through peanut fields on a donkey cart that was cruising along in the moonlight. Joe and I don't really talk all that much when we're together, I sort of get the impression he doesn't like to speak French, but we exchanged a few jokes and the ride was entirely pleasant, if not smooth.
When we returned home, there was a delicious noodle dish and baguette waiting to be eaten! So delicious! And the drums and music from a lutte séance were audible in our neighborhood! So I changed quickly into a lighter dress (everyone was complaining about the cold but I thought it was lovely) and headed out with Ke, Khady, and Thiarma. The lutte was lowkey but entertaining. The victor received a goat and a few thousand CFA as a prize. It was sort of like a barn dance, but for Senegalese people.
So it's fairly obvious to see that my day was a total rollercoaster. Boredom, alienation, sadness, joy, it was all there. And now it is late and tomorrow I am getting my hair braided for Tabaski, so I had better sleep. I wish I had more of a chance to explain, but it will have to wait!
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