June 27, 2004

E-mail from Amy

I departed Senegal May 31 to fly to France. My lovely brother Moussa gave me a Senegalese outfit sewn by a young tailor from Belaye named Ali. I wore it the last couple of days in Senegal and everyone was very pleased. It's a very bright and colorful top with matching elastic waste band trousers. Moussa thought everyone in the US would be very impressed with it. I didn't mention that were I to wear it in the streets of DC I would probably be taken for a clown or someone wearing pajamas.

It was so lovely to feel the love and warmth of the Goudiabys. It feels such a safe and comforting place to be. I hope I can write a short story that will do justice to Le Pere.

France I arrived in Paris June 1 exhausted after flying through the night from Senegal. The fat lady in a boubou who sat next to me was constantly pouring into my seat and getting up to use the toilet. From the airport I took a cab (my huge stupid luggage precludes subway travel) to the train station. The traffic was unbelievably slow much to the frustration and anger of my Algerian cab driver who cursed the whole scenario incessantly.

I got a train to Argentan, which is a two cathedral town without much going on after 8 p.m.. It is the home of Sisi Bravard-Dugue, my 82 year-old friend. Poor Sisi had come out of the hospital only 2 weeks previously, because a sloppy doctor had perforated her intestine performing a colonoscopy. His error gave rise to a heart attac and llung infection. My dear friend was in a coma for four days and remained in the hospital for a month and a half. There was nothing wrong with her colon. What they thought might have been a polyp was an air pocket.

The normally lively and loving Sisi was not quite herself, though remarkable given the circumstances. After two nights in Argentan, and a six hour luncheon and some friends of Sisi,we drove to Sisi's lovely cottage in a small village called Barc where we met up with her 93 year old uncle Raoul, who was busy in the rose garden when we arrived. Most of our days were spent eating and drinking or shopping for food and preparing it.

I quite liked it at first, but after while I simply wanted to NOT eat anymore. I started feeling like a victim of hospitality and began to have the urge to bolt, but I didn't have any solid plans. I called my cousin Jane in Paris to whom I eventually escaped. We did have some lovely lunches though with visitors all of whom I questioned about living in Normandy when the beaches were stormed on D-Day. For three months they endured heavy bombing, though of course they were appreciative. One woman had Germans living in her house for months. Another woman's mother and father were killed by American bombs.... All of this was very topical as the 60th anniversary of d-Day was underway. It was often blaring on the TV, which was on most of the time at full volume as neither Sisi nor Raoul can hear very well.

I helped Raoul in the garden and quite enjoyed it. I also did heavy lifting and errands and was as charming and helpful as possible, but perhaps because Sisi was not feeling 100% she took to picking on Raoul and I, criticizing and correcting our every action. I forgive her and still love her, but that combined with my rotten stomach from too much eating of different foods, did not do wonders for my mood. (to be continued)

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