Scars!

I feel obligated to write about getting Fula scars, because after all it is not every day you ask a stranger to slice you with a razor blade, but I’m not sure there’ll be much more to say than that. The scars are traditionally done on the face, but I thought they'd look nicer on my feet.

I traveled from Basse to Wassu with Abby and she bought nyankatong in the car park, which is something I hadn’t known was possible, especially in the early morning. She also got us seats in the very front of the gelle, which is also something I hadn’t thought possible unless you were an old man. Other than that, travel was unadventurous.

We met the group in Wassu and drew on our future scars with Sharpie so the lady would know where to cut. The actual cutting hurt less than I'd expected, like a mild version of a paper cut. Rubbing in the peanut ash didn't hurt much, either. Sort of took away the paper cut pain, actually.

She didn’t cut as deeply on one foot as the other, which I’m a little upset about because one set of lines is wider and darker than the other set, but I am trying to convince myself that the imperfection adds to the authenticity.

Then we bandaged it up with gauze pads and Canadian flag hockey tape.


Then I kept it away from water for three days, and that was that.

Told you there wasn't much of a story. 

She kept the peanut ash in a ram’s horn, which was the best.

I have photos of the final result as well, but I did not have them at the time I uploaded these pictures, and I am no longer in uploading-pictures-land.