Dogs!

Levi puts his paws up on the small bantaba where Neene and I are sitting. I scratch his head. Neene shouts, “Levi! Get down from there or I’ll beat you till you poop!” I push Levi down. He attempts to return, but Neene reminds him of the consequences. He stalks off without a backward glance, pushes open the door to my house and walks in. The door swings shut behind him.


I tell Neene that Levi is angry. She exclaims that he heard what she said! I mention the girl who the day before yesterday asked if Levi heard English and then told me her dog understands French. Then I tell her about the dog I saw on T.V. in America that will sit with a biscuit on his nose until the owner tells him to chew and then the dog will toss the biscuit in the air and catch it.


Neene sounded impressed, and told me about a dog in the Senegal market. The owner will write a letter and put it in a bag with money and tie the bag around the dog’s neck. Then he will tell the dog to go to the market and buy meat. And the dog will go until he gets to the person selling the meat and then he will just stand. And the person will untie the bag and read the letter to see if he is buying one kilo, or two, or a kilo and a half. Then he will put the meat in a bag and tie it around the dog’s neck. And the dog will walk home. Won’t the dog eat the meat? No. Even if someone asks, “What do you have there?” the dog will not stop.


My story of the biscuit-eating dog suddenly sounded lame.

Bean Sandwich Stories: No one ever found...

A delicious bean sandwich came wrapped in a scrap of notebook paper scrawled with the following:


“Thief No noe ever found the dook Marima and the other chil dren in ther class could not reda [torn edge] read about the daodad tree”


For those people disinclined to decoding, I believe this message should read, "Thief. No one ever found the book Mariama and the other children in their class could not read about the baobab tree."

Good Morning Girl!

I’ve only ever seen Good Morning Girl from a distance. She goes to the elementary school, and the first time she greeted me, she impressed me with her loud and clear, "Good morning!" "Wow," I thought, "this girl speaks English really well!"

A few days later, I recognize her voice again, "Good morning!" This time, however, it is unmistakeably afternoon, well after lunch.

And some weeks later, as I walk home one night from a village program: "Good morning!"

Greetings!

One morning I followed Neene to a neighboring village where we greeted:

• My formerly-pregnant tokara and her six day old baby, asleep and adorable
• The lady with the swollen hand
• Two girls named Isatou, side by side
• Two boys named Alieu, side by side
• The woman who clapped and danced and then dressed herself
• The woman who fed us sour milk with sugar and coos

That afternoon I go to the market where I greet:

• The men on the bantaba who accused me of thievery
• The girls who ask if I have a lot of money and who, when I say, “No, but I think you have a lot of money” give me three hundred dalasis in imaginary invisible money

On the way home from the market I greet:

• The women sitting in the shade outside a bitik who inform me the sun is hot
• The group of boys who ask where my dog is. I say, “He followed me to the market but when I left I did not see him. He is lost.” Their eyes open wide with concern. “He is lost?” “Yes.” They ask his name and tell me they would look for him. One boy asks, “If I find him and bring him to you, you will give me lots of money.” I say okay because I doubted the boys would actually find Levi, and it’s always nice to imagine you’re about to acquire a large sum of money.
• The woman getting her hair braided. I say, “You are getting braided.” She says yes.
• The baby of the friend of the woman getting her hair braided. He is kind of splotchy and lumpy. The woman getting her hair braided asks if he is beautiful. I say yes.
• The men playing checkers and the men sitting on the bantaba behind them. One of the men would like to borrow my dog because “It has been a long time since I have chewe—met a squirrel.” I reply that I do not think my dog will be any good at hunting, and anyway, he is lost.
• The people in Julia’s compound. I’d wanted to see if Worokia would greet me or grin and walk away but she wasn’t around.
• The people in Sinni’s compound. My husband shouts, “Binta Jallow!” because he is talking now, and Buba shows me the “pit latrine” he is digging with a stick.

Back from the market I greet:

• Levi, who is wagging his tail and looking completely unapologetic about having left the market without letting me know.

Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas!

Last Christmas I received an amazing Christmas card. When you open it, a Christmas tree pops out and red and yellow lights start flashing and a voice sings “Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas.” For nine months, I kept the luminary and musical properties of this card a secret. I feared mass chaos, shredded paper, screams, shrieks, and sobs. I pictured the card’s torn pieces fluttering into the waiting mouths of goats.

Then I realized, even if the card were destroyed within minutes of my revealing it to the children, this fate would not be any worse than the one of hanging silently on a wall, collecting dust. So one day in September, when Mamadou asks about the reindeer on the cover of the card, I decide to open it. Mamadou loves it. He brings it outside to show Diomboy. Diomboy loves it. And I love that I’m hearing “Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas” on a mid-September morning in Africa.

When Gaye is shown the musical card, he responds with, “Ay, the toubab.”

At night, Pateh likes to shove the card close to his face so that he lights up, literally and figuratively, exactly as an American child would walking into a living room containing a fully-decorated Christmas tree. Pateh requests to see the card by referring to the book that goes “hum-hum-hum.”

The adults also like to see the card. It had lasted through several viewings in my compound without harm, so I decided to venture with it to Sinni’s compound. It entertains adults as well as kids! Fama paused braiding someone’s hair to open and close the card. My gold-toothed tokara liked to open and close the card several times in quick succession, but Fatou Sowe liked to pause and forget about it for long periods of time. Every once and awhile a conversation about broken water taps or the shortage of medicine at the hospital would be interrupted by, “…but have a cup of cheer!”

The best response, though, was Isatou Pippi’s. Mamadou, Diomboy, Pateh and I were opening and closing the card one night when I saw someone walking towards our compound. I shut the card and whispered to Mamadou, “Give Isatou the card and say, ‘open it.’ She will not be brave!” I wasn’t sure if Mamadou would understand my intention and follow my instructions. I worried maybe he’d take the card from my hands and open it immediately, or announce beforehand, “Isatou, listen to this!” Luckily, Mamadou understands a prank. He executed it flawlessly and Isatou jumped back in fright. Then we all started laughing, including Isato Pippi, who told me, “I thought it was a mouse.”