When I arrive with Martine at her mother's house in Bignona, her mother invited me to stay at the house. Before leaving Dakar, Martine had made a reservation at an inn in town. Her mother and Martine thought the house was too primative for me. They had me check out the outhouse and the fenced-in area where you took a bucket of water to take a "shower". After assuring them that it was fine--my only adapation was buying bottled water and not drinking from their well--Martine's mother declared that "my house is your house" and announced they would make a special meal for me. Her youngest brother, Sedi was the chef. Martine pounded the palm nuts in the large morter and pestle. Except for sleeping--most of life takes place outside in their yard. Cooking is done over charcoal stoves.
Martine's sister-in-law, who has an 18 month-old little girl, Martee killed and plucked a chicken from the yard. Wandering around the yard were sheep and chickens the whole time I was there. They seem to put up some barrier at night to keep the sheep from coming into the house
We ate Senegalese style, from one large bowl with our hands, I was given a spoon. In polite Senegalese style, they would push extra chicken over to my section of the bowl.
Most of the time we ate at this little table outside the house--this is a typical breakfast--when a family has money for it--French bagettes. After we bought the bread, we would stop at a little store, slice the bread and pay for them to spread on the chocolate spread (like Nutella) that they use here--or cheese. The family would make a pot of tea from some local leaves. Martine's mother liked coffee so I would buy at the same little shop, a miniscule plastic bag with about 1 teaspoon of instant coffee and another bag with powdered milk. The whole meal would cost less than a dollar to feed lots of people. When you don't have enough money to eat this "European" breakfast, you take some kind of plastic container and go to a place where they sell already cooked millet porridge. The seller dishes it into the container you brought with you--costs about 20 cents to feed a family. Martine was always grateful to me for this trip--but I am equally grateful for the opportunity to learn about village life in a way I never would have as a tourist.
The other day I took this photo of the family across the street from me, eating from the one pot. I often see the security guards eating this type of communial meal. I often wonder, where does the food come from, who cooks for them. Sharing is certainly the way of life here. As a matter of fact, when you thank someone here in Wolof, the reply, our "you're welcome", is literally translated as "we share it."
We ate Senegalese style, from one large bowl with our hands, I was given a spoon. In polite Senegalese style, they would push extra chicken over to my section of the bowl.
Most of the time we ate at this little table outside the house--this is a typical breakfast--when a family has money for it--French bagettes. After we bought the bread, we would stop at a little store, slice the bread and pay for them to spread on the chocolate spread (like Nutella) that they use here--or cheese. The family would make a pot of tea from some local leaves. Martine's mother liked coffee so I would buy at the same little shop, a miniscule plastic bag with about 1 teaspoon of instant coffee and another bag with powdered milk. The whole meal would cost less than a dollar to feed lots of people. When you don't have enough money to eat this "European" breakfast, you take some kind of plastic container and go to a place where they sell already cooked millet porridge. The seller dishes it into the container you brought with you--costs about 20 cents to feed a family. Martine was always grateful to me for this trip--but I am equally grateful for the opportunity to learn about village life in a way I never would have as a tourist.
The other day I took this photo of the family across the street from me, eating from the one pot. I often see the security guards eating this type of communial meal. I often wonder, where does the food come from, who cooks for them. Sharing is certainly the way of life here. As a matter of fact, when you thank someone here in Wolof, the reply, our "you're welcome", is literally translated as "we share it."
No comments:
Post a Comment