On dit...

THE LEFT HAND
(also titled: Pooping Abroad)

No one uses toilet paper in Senegal: that was the first piece of advice I was given. Emilie, in the wonderful care package she sent me over with, gave me a roll, explaining that it is possible to buy it here, but no one does.

This is absolutely true. My family has a small roll, probably left over from the last student here. I carry my own in my backpack to and from school. Instead of paper, in the bathrooms here you find a bucket of water. One step away from a bidet, you supposedly use your left hand to wash yourself. Then I guess you shake your hand dry, because I have yet to see a hand towel.

You do not wash with your right hand because that is the hand you use to eat with.

I don't know about anyone else, but I am always just a little shy using other peoples' bathrooms in the US, when I know how they work and what is expected of me. When some toilets flush and some don't, some have seats and some don't (and the seat is always wet from the washing water), it can get positively terrifying at first. It can also be a bit disconcerting to look up from the toilet to see a showerhead and realize that here, a bathroom is a showerstall with a toilet in it. You get over it pretty quick, though. You have to- if you stay hydrated you get over the toilet thing. Cold showers every morning is another thing entirely.

On a related note, it was almost exactly a week before I got sick. Well, not really ill or anything, but I forgot that vegetables are, generally, washed in tap water. We knew this would happen. At least it's the weekend, so I can sleep in tomorrow.

The left hand has another job. When you say goodbye to someone, you shake left hands, to indicate that you will see them again soon.

THE RIGHT HAND
(also titled: You Still Can't Play With Your Food)

My family is trying to make me fat. Really- I'm not exaggerating. Not only do I live with a cook, but I have heard multiple times that their goal is for me to gain wait. Which I'm just fine with, except I'm not used to HUGE lunches and dinners of hot food all the time.

We eat mostly fish, in various forms, or beef- on top of salad. Dinner is served on one large platter, and we sit around it in the living room and reach in to eat. Mama Binta and Raissa and I eat separately from Papa Anicet. I don't know if Pascal eats with us or with his father- he's been sick these last few days so I have yet to see him eat dinner. I help bring in the water and cups and dishes and bread (always a baguette with every meal), and I also bring in silverwear, which no one uses but always offers. You eat with your right hand, breaking apart pieces of meat with your fingers, using bread to soak up the almost-too-salty sauce. There are onions in everything. If it's a rice dish you scoop up some rice and sort of squeeze it into a ball, using the edge of the platter. If there's something on the other side of the plate that you want to eat, you ask and whoever's sitting closest will put a piece in front of you. You eat from the food nearest you. They told me that people don't speak at meals, to respect the food. I wish that were the case simply because it's hard enough understanding mumbled french when it's not spoken through a mouthful of bread.

You do not eat with your left hand because that is the hand you use to wash with.

It is acceptable and recommended to lick your hand after you're done eating, so that you won't leave bits of food in the bucket of water that's passed around after a meal to wash with.

Food is the thing that is shared the most here. Not jus tat mealtimes, either. At least once a day my little brother will walk up to me with the phrase "tu veux?" and in his hand will be a mug with some yogurt, or a hard candy, or a piece of bread. The hard candy I took, and held awkwardly, used to accepting what someone gives me. I took it assuming he had more, and wanted to offer me a piece. No, that was the only piece of candy, I realized, and had to catch him as he started to walk away, explaining that no, it was for him. "tu es sure?" yes, I'm sure I don't want your piece of candy. "Tu es sure?" yes, of course, you should eat it. Only after he had offered his one piece of blue candy to everyone in the house and made sure they didn't want it, did he pop it in his mouth and run off to play.

Today at lunch we ordered fast food, but I wasn't feeling well enough to even contemplate eating the huge portion of chicken and fries that was given to me. I left the table, but Awa followed me and asked if I wanted to take my lunch home. I tried to explain that if I didn't want it now, I wouldn't want it on the long walk home. She just looked at me, then said, "but you don't want to share it with your family?" Oh. of course. And of course I want to, it just never occurred before.

I'm sitting outside. There's a mosquito buzzing around my keyboard. It's very distracting. I want to keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn't bite me. ........Lost it. Oh well.