Lettuce!

Who knew lettuce could be such a production? One Saturday afternoon I visit Kantaly, where Fatou Sowe and her kids live now. Fatou asks, “Do you like lettuce?” or possibly, “Would you like lettuce?” The questions are said the same in Pulaar. I answer, “Yes, lettuce is sweet.” “My mother will bring you lettuce. Today Binta’s dinner will be sweet!” An hour later, Fatou’s mother returns, holding a bucket of lettuce leaves—all of which get transferred into a plastic bag for me to bring home.

I return home and present the lettuce to Neene, who is pleased. When Amadou comes home, he is shown the lettuce and starts discussing how we will prepare it. I thought we could just garnish our rice with it or something, but Amadou mentions vinegar, onions, tomatoes, oil, macaroni, bread. Neene asks how much all this will cost and he does some calculations. “We will do this tomorrow, in the morning. Breakfast tomorrow will be sweet!”

Breakfast tomorrow is millet porridge with a shortage of sugar. No one mentions the lettuce, until later in the morning when I overhear Neene mention it to Amadou and he says, frustrated, that if he has money he will buy the vegetables and vinegar and bread and we will eat the lettuce for lunch. Then he goes to the market to see if there is some sewing he can do.

Why didn’t I just give the money to buy the necessary ingredients for consuming lettuce? Unrelated story. But I wasn’t being mean, promise.

Sometime before lunch Neene exclaims that the mice have eaten the salad! Last night! Eaten all of it! I think, “Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about buying vinegar and tomatoes anymore.” Neene brings out the bag to show me. A sizeable hole has been chewed in the bag and I can see that the lettuce has been nibbled on, but we must have different definitions of “all” because the bag is still stuffed with lettuce. I am hoping that there is no taboo against consuming rodent-nibbled food, because lettuce is lettuce and I wouldn’t have a problem with it, assuming Jainabou washes the lettuce and then tears it up so the chew marks are no longer noticeable.

I do not see the lettuce getting fed to the sheep I decide I can continue looking forward to eating it.

Lunch comes and goes and neither Amadou nor the lettuce make an appearance. I consider suggesting that, before the lettuce spoils, even if we don’t have vinegar or vegetables, we could eat the lettuce plain. I, at least, would eat it. But I decide to give it a little more time before suggesting so drastic a measure.

Night comes and Jainabou asks me to call Amadou and ask where he is. He says he is in Senegal, but he is coming right now. Jainabou, Neene and I sit outside and wait for him. Jainabou says, “I think Binta has forgotten about the lettuce.” Neene answers, “I do not think so. Binta, have you forgotten about the lettuce?” “No, I have not forgotten.”

Kairaba joins us and every once and awhile the conversation drifts back to the lettuce. Neene and Kairaba agree that this lettuce is tiring them, it’s a job to eat this lettuce. They talk about Koli Njie, who will often prepare lettuce and send it to her husband. They talk about a village in Senegal, where Neene went once, and they ate lettuce every day for dinner, with meat, and it filled her. Kairaba agrees that this will fill you.

Amadou has yet to return, but Neene takes out two dalasis and sends Jainabou to buy however much vinegar that will buy. We can take the vinegar and an onion from the four Binta bought yesterday, there are still three remaining, and we can eat the lettuce. This sounds like a wonderful idea.

Jainabou is gone for awhile and Amadou returns in the meantime. Then Jainabou returns. Amadou looks at the lettuce. He looks at the vinegar. He decides there is not enough vinegar. “This will not make the lettuce die.” He gives Jainabou money to buy more vinegar and sets off himself to buy the other ingredients. They return with the ingredients and Amadou asks, “Does your tank have gas small? We can cook this fast fast.” His recipe will be tomorrow’s post.