Crude.. Sénégalese women.... in the same sentence?!

I was all proud five or so minutes ago, putting my finishing thoughts on my final paper for the program... only to do a word count on the google document to find that it was only 7 pages. My paper is supposed to be 20. I almost cried. Instead, I decided to blog rather than continue on. Good life decision, I know.

On Saturday, my host sisters came home from Koranic school to tell me that they spent the early morning blockading the nationale highway. Apparently, all the students as a form of protest, blocked just about all traffic going north and south of the country of Senegal. I am so proud of them! As of yesterday, there have been gendarmes on the road right outside the health clinic flagging cars down that are driving too quickly.

Sunday I took a mini excursion to Dakar to do some last minute shopping before leaving the country. I realized late last week that with how the program is arranged around Tabaski, and with me travelling back and forth between Dakar and Sébikotane (im spending Tabaski in Sébi), ill have little to no down time if I want to spend any time with my host family in Dakar. When I got to the market, I was surprised that almost all the vendors I had talked to from past visits remembered my name. They also remembered the fact that I bargained the hell out of their prices... which is probably why they remembered my name. I ended up buying two pairs of jeans for 10,000 fCFA total, twenty bracelets for 1500 total, and a baobab pendant for 1000 fCFA. Oh, and a milkshake at N'ice Cream as well :)

Going off the topic of names, my host family here has given me many. The most amusing is a tie between "sheu-perman" and "jiaye funday (something along the lines of big ass from what ive gathered)". Also, from the first night I was here, my family named me "Aminanta", which just so happens to also be the name of the mother of the prophet Mohammed. Im pretty content. Everyday when I walk home from work, the little kids scream "Aminata, Aminata, fatuum na?" Fatuum na is Sereer for nanga def which is Wolof for (sort of) how are you?

Today because there was once again very few patients at the clinic, I walked with Ndiaye, Aida, and Eva (the second and third names being that of the two french nurses who just arrived) to the maternity ward. I was hesitant to go at first because 1) it was dafa taaaaaaaang (fucking hot) and 2) really far. In the end, my supervisor gave me the command to go, so I went. In retrospect, Im glad I did. Along the way, NDiaye stopped by what felt like every freaking house we walked past. Once again, Im glad it happened. The houses we visited just so happened to be the houses of many of the patients Ive seen over the past month. I was equally as excited to see them as they were to me.

At the maternity ward, we initially got a surprisingly cold welcome. After we got talking some bit, we somehow got on the topic of husbands and when I was asked how many I would have, being the loudmouthed Grinnellian that I am, I said I wanted two-- if Sénégalese men can have multiple wives, and if men and women by law have the same rights in Sénégal, then I want to make the most of my rights. This sent the room into an uproar-- all the sage femmes started laughing so hard that I almost by impulse covered my ears because it was so loud. They then very suggestively asked me what I would do with the two husbands... and followed by gesturing penetration with their hands. Yes, these were Sénégalese women who did this. They then said that I would be busy all day-- taking one husband in the morning, and one husband at night. I, too, was laughing along with them while NDiaye, Aida, and Eva turned bright red. In the end, the cold atmosphere was broken and we all walked away smiling.

And to very, very randomly end this post... I really miss buffalo wings.