Filed under: Frivolous!
…And on that farm he had, well, everything.
Pulaars are traditionally a semi-nomadic herding people and I’ve gotten used to animals being EVERYWHERE. Cows rumble past my hut sounding like Jurassic Park dinosaurs, chickens run freely, and of course, there’s that unfortunate ram strapped to the top of almost every bus I see.
Animals are great and all, except when it’s a mangy, snotty-nosed sheep putting its muzzle in the rice pot when everyone’s backs are turned. One thing I found particularly interesting is that when Pulaars want to communicate to an animal to go away, they reserve special noises for each species. I did some research and here’s the breakdown:
For Chickens, the appropriate sound is “Cous!” Pronounced exactly like you’re about the say “couscous,” but you just stop with one cous.
For Goats and Sheep, you say “Err!” with the r’s rolled like you’re a pirate.
For Cows, its “Deek!”
For Dogs, its “Achu!” like you’re sneezing. They also use the same sound for children. Curious.
For Cats, you say “Sip!” pronounced exactly the same way you would the English word meaning “to take a small drink.” But you have to scream it. Like you really mean it.
"Deek!"
For Horses and Donkeys, people yell “Urri!” Also with the pirate r. This is also the sound my little nephew uses when he sits on the rusty barrel in our front yard, mercilessly hitting the barrel with a stick. That’s how I know he’s pretending to be a charrette driver.
Filed under: Frivolous!
In a sharp departure from the generally serious tone of this blog (unintentional, I promise), I’ve decided to write about something frivolous. And also, at the suggestion of my mom (thanks, Mom), it will concentrate on the Senegalese people. AND in an homage to my Neiman Marcus girls (and guys), I’m gonna talk about fashion. Because you all know I love it…
One thing that struck me about the Senegalese people in general is their grace. I have never seen a country filled with so many people who have such great posture… Probably because of the need to maintain balance, because the women here, and even sometimes the men, carry everything on their heads. They carry water, they carry bags of groceries, they carry trays and baskets filled with anything imaginable – all on their heads! In Pulaar there is even a special verb – rondaade – that means “to carry on one’s head.”
…So let’s imagine this country populated by perfectly postured people, draped in the most exquisitely colored fabric. Sometimes the scene resembles those old Grecian or Roman statues. Except, you know, the Senegalese version…
Women typically wear pagnes. A pagne (or wudere in Pulaar), consists of two meters of fabric with two ties at the two top corners that is then wrapped around your waist to form a skirt. One can walk into any fabric store of one’s choosing, pick out two meters from among the multitude of outrageously beautiful patterns, and take it to a tailor to have a pagne made… All this costs about 1500 CFA for run-of-the-mill wax fabric (a durable, woven cotton that is more casual) and 2000 CFA for a tailor. This adds up to about $6.50 for a skirt that is made just for you. What’s more, resourceful Senegalese women use pagnes for much more than just a skirt. They can double as beach towels, bath towels, pot holders… And the beautiful, vibrant colors last even through the brutal washings and their general existence under the hot West African sun. The only catch: you must learn how to walk in them. It wasn’t easy, for me at least. I spent many days feeling like I was walking around town taking tiny steps like a Japanese geisha.
To accompany the pagne, most Senegalese women have a top and head wrap made in the same fabric to make a complète. These tops can be made in any imaginable style… with ruffles or embroidery or lace. All a girl needs to do to please her host family is to ditch the western style clothes for a day and put on a complète… the compliments are endless… My favorite is “Kaa debbo!” (Loosely translated: “You look like a woman!”)
A very interesting subsector of Senegalese fashion is that which centers around donated western clothing. Well meaning organizations in “the first world” ship massive amounts of clothing here and all over Africa, a large percentage of which are resold at gigantic street markets, like the fukijaye (not sure if that’s spelled right!) in Dakar. Imagine my surprise when I first saw native Senegalese walking the streets of a stereotypical African village wearing t-shirts that say things like “Clarke Family Reunion” or “Operation Desert Storm” or “I don’t do Mondays.” The most unusual patrons of this “trend” are the talibe. Talibe are boys that are sent by their families (either on priciple or lack of money to feed the child) to study the Koran under a Marabout, a Muslim spiritual leader. The talibe are dressed in rags, always filthy, and must beg for food, which they put into medium sized metal cans that they carry perpetually. Families usually have a designated talibe which they feed almost every day. In Kanel, one particular little talibe took a long time to warm up to the new toubab in town. He constantly laughed at me and my attempts to speak Pulaar. And then for one week straight he was dressed in pink cotton knit shorts with a matching pink and ivory t-shirt that depicted a cartoon teddy bear with the words “I need a hug.” Maybe this helped soften my regard towards him. In any event, we bonded over a walk into town one day and we’re now buddies, I’m happy to report.
Senegalese fashion, like the Senegalese people, is endlessly entertaining, constantly surprising, loud and ostentatious, glaring and gaudy, multipurpose and multitalented and just absolutely breathtaking. And it serves as the perfect symbol of why I love this country.
