May 28, 2004

E-mail from Amy

Dear friends and family,

Before heading for the village of Belaye, I spent two more nights in Dakar outside the hotel Alafifa. One night at Moussa's which was fine apart from all the noise and the fact that his bed has a bit of a slope to it.

He lives in what is known as a "quartier populaire" in a building where he rents a room with his nephew Sidya. Sidya gave up his half of the bed for me.

The turkish toilet/shower room is down the hall and around the corner. I think some of the building's inhabitants were a little surprised to see me traipsing down the hall with my bucket of water heading for a bath.

The room contains a queen sized bed, TV, cassette player, three stack-able chairs, a desk and their clothes. It is on the second floor, and when you exit the door you find yourself overlooking a cement courtyard where noisy children run about day and night. The room is freshly painted and tidy.

One night all the Goudiaby relatives who live in Dakar gathered there for sandwiches. About ten of us crammed into his 10' x 10' room. The TV and cassette player were going simultaneously. I kept trying to get them to turn off the TV volume so we could each take the voice of a character and make our own story. Nobody seemed eager to participate so I gave up.

Four of us were on Moussa's bed and occasionally I would shout across the room to ask what someone was studying at the University. It was a joy to see all the handsome Goudiaby faces looking healthy and happy. They are all so dignified and gentle. I knew all of them when they were tiny children running barefoot through the bush with mango stains on their shirts. They still caress my hair and feet and hold my hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Now I'm back in Dakar after a wonderful visit in the village. It was great to see everyone, especially Le Pere, his wife, Thiamonding and their oldest son, Bouba. Bouba and his wife, Aissatou, have a two-year-old named Papis after Papis Goudiaby. He is a little terror and never listens to anyone, but is adored by all.

My friend, Papis Mane, and I flew down to Ziguinchor and were met by a friend who drove us to Belaye. We went directly to Le Pere's house. We found him sitting in the usual place on the veranda in his favorite chair. He got up and walked to the edge of the porch to greet us.

He is a little elf of a man with smiling eyes, which sadly do not work very well anymore. His face has not aged since I first lived with the family in 1986. Not a wrinkle mars his undeniably handsome face. In spite of his blindness, he navigates rather well in the daytime without the aid of a cane. He gets up from the floor without help and moves with incredible agility from his room to the porch and from the porch to the little mosque. That is his habitual path. He'll even make the 2/3 of a kilometer trip to the village telephone to receive a call. It is hard to believe he is 102.

As his son, Papis, says, "He's not a real person." We hugged each other happily and went through the traditional greetings. Le Pere asked if all of my family was in good health and was particularly interested to know how Mummsy was doing. I told him everyone was just fine "kasumai kep."

Then he told me there was a group of women waiting for us by the road. We had driven by without noticing. We dumped the baggage and returned to find the women so they could accompany me to Le Pere's. When we found them I shook everyone's hand but forgot almost everyone's name which was really embarrassing, as calling someone by name is the most important thing to do.

The women accompanied me back to Le Pere's singing songs and beating sticks together for the rhythm section. Every once in awhile someone would start dancing. I danced a couple times myself. The gals seemed a bit lackluster and I felt kind of sorry for them, because they probably had a lot of more important things to do when Le Pere told them to get their butts out there and give me a big Jola welcome.

At Le Pere's everyone sat on the veranda and looked at each other. I went and got the cookies I'd bought in Ziguinchor and shared them with the gals. I figured it was the least I could do for all the song and dance. Finally they left and I went and took a much needed bucket bath in the courtyard outside of Bouba's room, which he generously let me occupy.

I find I can smell myself most of the time as I'm sweating constantly. I finally bought some fake Channel no. 5, because my deodorant just wasn't doing the trick.

For dinner that night we had chicken stew on rice, which was quite tasty. We were all a little worried about my sister Famata, her baby, and nephew. They were coming from Dakar by road to join us and still hadn't arrived. We knew they must have gotten stuck at the ferry crossing in the Gambia. Vehicles line up for miles waiting for the decrepit boat to go back and forth across the Gambia River with a few vehicles at a time. Anyone from Senegal will tell you it's the dirtiest, smelliest, hottest place on earth, and it's no fun to be stuck there.

Discussion about it always leads to cursing the Gambians for not building a toll bridge. I think they refuse to, because it's the only power they have over Senegal which surrounds their entire country. It would be difficult for Senegal to take over the Gambia, because the Gambians can always defend themselves from the river. Apparently, that's how the British took that territory and kept the French colonialists in Senegal at bay. Gambia is as wide as the British gun boats could fire from the river.

At 10 p.m. Famata, her baby Aminata (my namesake) and Sidya arrived much to everyone's relief. Alhumdulilah. Determined to make a party out of our arrival in Belaye, Sidya and I stayed up to make tea, while everyone else went to bed. We sat outside and looked up at the bright stars overhead. It was good to be in the village.

I slept well and the next day I got up and went for a jog on the old road through the fallow rice fields. I'd hardly moved since arriving in Senegal and felt the need for a little exercise.

When I returned, I pulled out my frisbee and played with Mere Coly, Le Pere's grandchild. She took to it immediately so I gave it to her. Bouba called me to come look at the goat that Le Pere had chosen to kill for me. It was a beautiful animal. I couldn't watch Bouba kill it. We ate it for lunch.

Each day I spent about three hours interviewing Le Pere about his life from childhood to the present. Sometimes it was difficult to find the time, because everyday people from other villages come to see Le Pere to greet him and receive his prayers.

I asked him why people always came to him for his prayers. He said it was because he was so old but that it had been the same way with his own father, Saraba, who died rather young. Then he told me the following story. When his father, Saraba, was the chief of the village. he was walking through the bush one day coming from the neighboring village of Badiana. He came upon an old man carry lots of heavy bags so he offered to help him. After walking together for awhile, the man told Saraba he could put the bags down and gave him a coin for his help. He told Saraba to kill a black cat and put the coin in the skin of the cat and keep it in a safe place and that he would have riches, knowledge and wisdom.

Saraba took the coin and headed toward Belaye. Reflecting on this bizarre encounter, Saraba realized that it was not a real person who he'd met, but a benevolent spirit. He did as he was told with the coin.

Le Pere told me that when his father died, he went to look for the black cat's hide with the coin in it. He found the skin, but no coin so he threw it away figuring it had lost its power.

I asked Le Pere if he'd ever seen a spirit, and he said, "No." He said he didn't have those powers but that he knew people who did.

According to Le Pere, the most important thing in life is rain/water. The most important human qualities are honesty and forgiveness. I am grateful to have his prayers and affection. Of course he always has mine.

I have more to tell and will try to do so before I leave Senegal. If not this may be my last e-mail for a long time. I fly to France Monday and will go directly to the village in Normandy to the cottage of my friend Sisi. There is no cyber cafe within miles.

Amy

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