Rough draft-ish...

Johanna Gorman-Baer

MSID Country Analysis

FOR #2, 5 Mars 2010

Sunday I went over to Kaela and Elke’s house for the baptism. Mama Binta had made a mountain of beignets the day before and I’d helped Kaela pick out a cute pair of baby shoes and socks for her new niece. From my backyard I saw people hanging out on the roof so I headed over after breakfast. Kaela and Elke were wearing traditional outfits and I felt really really really underdressed, but I guess Baaly, another sister, said it wasn’t a problem. Still, we spent a good long time sitting in the bedroom watching Baaly and her sister Ami (the mother) getting ready. For some reason it was fascinating watching the two women putting on makeup. Baaly was brushing gold glitter over her already purple-glossed lips and her eyebrows had been plucked and drawn on purple and gold. Ami was twisting her gelled hair into swirls and pinning them down. Baaly’s two daughters were climbing all over the small, hot room, almost stepping on the baby (who didn’t yet have a name), but they were adorable with their little braids and fancy new clothes.

I’m always amazed at how glamorous women here can be. They spend so much time on how they look, making sure everything is just right. In the States if a woman had given birth a week earlier, she’d be in sweatpants and t-shirts for the next five years taking care of the kid. Here? A baptism is another excuse to look fabulous. Even though I don’t think Ami ever left the house, she changed her outfit, hair, and makeup at least twice over the course of the day. In the morning, though, she was still in gold, and we were stumbling through a Wolof conversation and eating lakh. I barely noticed when a woman came into the bedroom to take a bag of kola nuts from the dresser and the baby (whose eyebrows had also been penciled in), and I don’t think Ami even nodded to her or faltered in her sentence. The conversation continued, we filled up with lakh, and a few hours later the baby was brought back in, as Ndeye Mati Fall. And she was laid back on the bed near her mother, who nodded and continued the conversation. And that was the baptism- the ceremony, at least.

The mother didn’t have anything to do with it! She’d gotten all dressed up to sit on the bed and make small talk with relatives while the ceremony was going on in the next room? I thought I would get to see a Senegalese baptism ceremony and instead I missed it- as did almost everyone else. I still don’t know where or how it happened. All I know is that it apparently wasn’t a big deal. Half the party didn’t know what the baby’s name was- I didn’t even find out until I asked Kaela the following day. The mother wasn’t a part of it at all. Elke assured me that she did have a say in the child’s name, but before that I was wondering how much a say she had in the matter. It seemed more like the baptism was an excuse to have everyone over for a party. And in this case, “party” means everyone sits around lazily chatting while children run wild and play with the toubabs.

At one point in the day I had three girls braiding my hair at one time, all under the age of ten. They were adorable, and were patient with my Wolof, and the parents were glad to have the kids distracted. Parents here are much more willing to let their kids run around as long as they’re among friends and family- and family members are more willing to take responsibility for other children. No one was surprised that I spent most of the day with a toddler on my hip- it meant I was keeping him out of trouble at least. There was definitely a feeling of community that day, even if I didn’t understand the language most of the time.

The house was big so even though we stayed inside there was plenty of room and several different rooms to sit in. We did do a lot of sitting. Things were less stuffy up on the roof where at least there was a breeze. However, when I saw Kaela’s brother Ibu pulling a sheep up the stairs, we took that as a hint to leave. We didn’t come back upstairs until lunchtime, when the sheep was, well, much easier to carry, shall we say. It was also delicious, once I got used to sitting next to a bucket (what was left) with feet sticking out of it. We all sat on the floor on mats, around huge plates of cebb u yapp. There was so much food! It was delicious, though. I sat at a plate with a bunch of men, and we all were given spoons. Looking around I noticed that most of the women ate with their hands, but the men and children ate with spoons- I wonder why.

I left before dinner and went home. Waiting for my family to get back from Baobab, the power went out, which by now is such a normal occurrence that I didn’t think anything of it. I heard the party still going on, though, in the dark, over the rooftops in the backyard. What a day.