Ariana in Senegal

All of these pictures were taken during my last days in Senegal. There were many a tearful goodbye, but I also got some great photos with some lovely people.

Here is my favorite photo of my family (minus Amy-she wasn’t feeling well.)

I was lucky enough to see Binta, the old maid that was fired, my last day. I was SO happy.

Djiby, Rory, and Mouhammad. Pretty awesome people.

Tata Marie was my neighbor and one of my favorite people in the neighborhood. She is one sassy lady, even though she might not seem like it here:

The tailor I unofficially was the apprentice of, Doudou:

His super sweet daughter:

My favorite machine, run without electricity. It was sad to say goodbye to this too!

The zoo had those cages like are pictured on boxes of animal crackers:

The Marabout:

Lion!

Those horns!

These people are pretty great:

Someone told me to go check the mail box because there was ‘about a pound of letters waiting’ for me, and I found that I had 7 birthday cards and an Easter card!

Seriously made my day. I feel so loved. Thank you! (And thank you to those who have sent letters that I haven’t got. I appreciate you trying. I apologize that absolutely none of my cards have made it to the U.S.)

Mamy going to market:

check out these gills:

I am fish. 

I was born fish.

I am a…artist must have been interrupted.

choppin’

Creepin’ on some tasty treats.

I promised Doudou’s daughters that I would go with them to the Ile de Ngour, but yesterday their (very sweet) cousin also invited herself along. Which was fine. But she ended up being an hour late, then we got lost on the way, so we didn’t end up taking the pirogues to get to the island. Instead we stayed on the beach, because there wasn’t much time before we had to go home. Unfortunately it was a pretty dirty beach with enormous waves and scary rocks, so we didn’t swim much. I had a great time with these girls though. They couldn’t be sweeter.

Aida loves taking pictures, so there are a million awkward pictures of me in a swimsuit that I won’t add, but here are some cute ones:

I don’t think I have talked about Doudou before, but he is the tailor that works just behind my house. Sometimes he lets me do small sewing things, and if there’s nothing to do I just hang out there a lot. I’ve become friends with him and his family and friends, so he invited me to his third daughter’s baptism!

Tonton Doudou:

Love these kids. The boy in front that looks crazy, Pap, constantly strokes/stares at my skin and looks at me uncertainly.

Yacine and the baby, newly named Aminata:

Faty, Doudou’s oldest daughter, picked me up from my house at 8:30 this morning, helped me pick out small gifts, and brought me to her grandmother’s house (Doudou’s mom) on the other side of town. We were there before anyone else, and the people that live there were getting ready, so I just sat in the grandma’s room, chatting. (I’m good with grandmas.) She also happens to be a super cool high school teacher that wears mod glasses and is super sweet. She also told me that because this was Doudou’s second marriage, the baptism wasn’t a ‘real’ one. Apparently real ones are even bigger and fancier.

So we then went into the fancy living room, which is an area that exists in almost every house and is only used on special occasions. The nameless baby appeared and somehow ended up on my lap until slowly the room filled. I was introduced to a very lovely man who is Doudou’s marabout. I saw Doudou whisper something in the marabout, and then the marabout knelt on the floor in front of the mom/aunt (idk) holding the baby and whispered the name, Aminata, in the baby’s ear. He maybe whispered other stuff too, I really don’t know. This marabout seems to travel with two fellows that chanted in Arabic after he was done speaking in Wolof. Everyone did some hand things, and it was a bit like being at a Catholic mass and being generally confused and in awe. Then we were all given cola beans, which are super intense. I could not finish mine. The baby’s head was shaved, which is traditional, and I watched this sheep walk into the house. This was the next time I saw it:

Then we ate it. Sacrificing a sheep is a part of almost every celebration here.

Here comes a million pictures of me, sorry. I gave my camera to one of the girls. Anyways, so then I was brought to the roof where the food preparation was going on. We ate some lakh (millet and yogurt, basically. super sweet and delicious and traditional at baptisms.)

Squishing spicy things to make a spicy sauce that made me instantly hiccup:

(Which happens at least once a week here.)

Here I am with the ‘Master Chef,’ who became super shy after one of the guys said I should marry him and bring him back to the US so I could get fat and happy from his food. (The food was delicious, by the way.)

Here comes a series of portraits Aida took. I must say, I think she has some photography skills, which wouldn’t be a surprise as that is her uncle’s profession.

I will probably regret posting this, but it’s one of the series of portraits:

Otherwise known as ‘le lutte’ in French or wrestling in English. It’s the most important sport in Senegal, which I am ashamed to admit I was completely unaware of before coming here. It’s like football to Americans.

Yesterday, for a cultural experience with one of my classes I attended a big match at the stadium not far from here, and it was quite the experience. Unfortunately, I did not bring my camera out of fear for its safety, but I will try to find some pictures/videos online to give you an idea of what it’s like. 

A few key points: 

Basically everyone in the (large) stadium is a male. I never saw a Senegalese female spectator, and only the woman carrying around the concessions or the singers on the field were part of the institution.

The wrestlers wear tons of “gris-gris,” which are kind of like good-luck charms. Like their waists are covered, as are each limb. They also get an awful lot of special blessed water poured on them, and they go to each corner of the ‘ring’ (but it’s square, so there are corners) picking up some sand. Sometimes they put oils and other materials all over their body. One of the wrestlers showed his opponent his own image in a mirror because his marabout told him to do so. Now I don’t remember which one that was so I can’t confirm that that worked.

Drums are playing the entire time the stadium is open: before, during and after matches. The wrestlers dance around the stadium with their entourage before their match to warm-up/get in the zone/something like that. The crowd often dances along with them. After the match is finished the winner gets all cleaned up and returns back on the field with money in his mouth and fresh, clean clothes on and does another dance. The losers wail a lot. It’s actually very startling. We somehow ended up walking right by a guy being dragged by his friends while he was throwing a fit. Emotions are very intense in this sport.

I am sure there is more to this that I don’t understand, but I can only share my observations.

Finally “Zoooooossssssss!!!” was a good name to have win. Easy and fun to chant.

On Saturday we went to Touba, a city considered sacred by the Mouride brotherhood.

First we visited the enormous and beautiful mosque. Here is our professor of Islam in Senegal who was our guide for the trip.

Beloit girls:

The mosque is enormous and absolutely breathtaking. This is also the destination of hundreds of thousands annually for the Magal. (Learn more here.)

Gorgeous door to Amadou Bamba’s tomb. He was the guy that started the brotherhood and the one they continue to…kind of worship. Follow. Honor. Something like that.

So many faucets! This was only one side. So many people can do their ablutions!

Proof that Arabic may be the most beautiful written language:

Then we went to this palace constructed by one of Amadou Bamba’s grandsons, Cheikh Mohamadou Moustapha Mbacke. He is the guy on the left with the funky aura:

I could post a million pictures of ridiculously ornate couches and beds that the place was filled with, but it’s not actually that interesting to look at. Just know that this place is enormous and no one lives here now. It’s used as a sort of guest hose for VIPs of the brotherhood.

Our professor praying on the fur rug:

Enormous locust-filled garden:

And finally, my favorite sighting of the day: