Week one has just ended and already the thing that I have been noticing the most is the incredibly large role that children play in making things work around here. Binta doesn't have any children of her own (at least not that I know of), but there are no fewer than seven people under the age of thirty living with us. There's Ke (18), Jean (16 and since Senegalese people don't really dig the whole 'J' sound thing his name is pronounced 'Zean'), Khady (17), Joseph (22 and pronounced 'Zoe' of course), Kumba (also no idea but has a baby), Binta Jr. (8-9ish), Kordu (4) and Birane (4 months). There's also an older man named Doudou who lives in one of the buildings out back, but I don't really know his story. The young people living in this house basically run the place with Binta (the older version) acting as the conductor. It is amazing to see how much work they do, even Kordu. I am by far the least productive member of the household, except maybe Biran.
The girls of my age group (I am including Ke, Khady, and Kumba) do all of the cooking, most of the housework and go to class all day. They wake up at five or six each morning, do a load of chores, go off to school, and come home in time to go harvest some peanuts, get some fish, and make dinner. It is astounding. One of Binta's favorite phrases is “Life in the bush is work!” and it couldn't be more true. Thiarma (apparently Binta is a nickname for this? Or maybe Thiarma is the nickname for Binta? And here I am referencing the nine year old) comes home from school during the lunch hour to eat and then proceeds to do all the dishes for the rest of the house and buys produce before heading back to school. Kordu is just starting at the church school in town so she is at home most of the day, but whenever I walk in the door I find her toying with the mortar and pestle or getting people water to drink or bringing Binta dishes.
Everyone is so capable. It is clear that a child's education here begins very early. My family in Dakar always told me that Senegalese children learn to work with their hands first, cooking and doing work around the house, so that, if nothing else, they will be able to subsist. They apparently really meant that. Ke and Khady are able to cook just about any traditional Senegalese dish. Their ability to make the ground shake when they pound millet and dance is something that I think should be reserved for two hundred pound men. Kumba does all of these things with a baby on her back. And Kordu is practically still a baby and can already use a mortar and pestle far better than I can.
My inability to contribute in any meaningful way gives me a sort of inferiority complex. I realize that the people of my house have had years of practice and that I, given the time, could probably do the same, but for the meantime, I can't help but feel a little helpless at always having my food served to me on a silver platter (literally- my meals always arrive on a silver tray) without having put in any legwork myself. I always offer to help. Sometimes the ladies take me up on it, which almost always ends with laughter and jokes about my clear lack of skill. The other day, for instance, Ke was sweeping the house. This is a daily activity because the buildup is pretty incredible. Women here use hand brooms, ones that require arm strength to use. And as always, the ladies encourage me to use my right hand while performing any meaningful task, something that inevitably makes banal work exceedingly difficult. I started sweeping, doing what I thought to be a fine job, and Ke started laughing and pointing at 'dust' that remained on the ground (this 'dust' was invisible to me and I didn't see any more dirt move when she redid the room a minute later). A friend of mine told me that the Senegalese believe in negative reinforcement, using mild insults to inspire harder efforts. I hope that was the case because I was left feeling a little sheepish. So sometimes they accept my help laughingly and other times I get scoffed out of the kitchen. I guess with my untrained hands I could do more harm than good. It's fortunate that I have already undergone the process of culture shock once this semester because I do feel like I am more patient this time around. I am definitely more open to the possibility that not every giggle is a judgment of my skills.
It is difficult to sit around on a chair and watch everyone working without feeling inferior, guilty, or both. Sometimes I don't want to offer to help because I think that I will get laughed at or make a fool of myself or break a social code that I don't know exists. I can usually talk myself out of these excuses and end up offering to help anyway, usually to one of the common responses I listed above. Then starts the guilt. I sit around on a chair, sometimes playing with Kordu or a neighbor boy named Alioune, and watch other people work. It makes me feel very separate and privileged. I am here as an intern, to learn, so watching and doing small tasks around the house when I can is probably a fine contribution, but I really want to be a more active member of the household. I feel like I am capable of doing more than I am and it pains me to see people, many of whom are way less than half my age, working all the time, oftentimes for my benefit, without being able to give back. At the same time, it has only been a week and I would guess that my involvement will increase as I give myself time to learn. Patience is a virtue that Senegal imbues in large quantities.
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