Mariama Lives On

To date, I can identify myself as any number of things: daughter, sister, student, teacher, graduate, dancer, licensed driver. Some of these titles required tests, interviews, even the processing of official government documents. But if you know me well, you won't be surprised when I say my most prized title is that of 'Aunt'... and I didn't even have to apply!

My nieces, Eve and Marlee, are the coolest people I know. And being away from them for two years is one of the hardest parts of my Peace Corps service. Before coming to Senegal, I was actively campaigning for supreme title of 'Coolest Aunt Ever,' which is in serious jeopardy at the moment. And while there are plenty of babies here to play with, it's just not the same.

When I arrived in my village 17 months ago, my village father's younger brother's wife (you follow that?), Djonfollo, was pregnant. I watched her go through her entire pregnancy (her first ever pregnancy) and at 8.5 months she lost the baby. It was devastating for her and made me miss my girls even more. She got pregnant very soon thereafter and has been ready to burst for a few weeks.

And nine days ago she gave birth to the smallest baby girl I have ever seen!

I had left my village to visit my closest neighbor for the afternoon. No more than four hours later I was back in my village. I barely made it past the first fence when I was informed of the baby's arrival and shuffled into the women's hut to see her.

While the baby was cute, I was much more astonished and amazed at the condition and demeanor of the mother. Please keep in mind that less that three hours prior (it could have been 20 minutes before I got back for all I know), this young girl gave birth in a mud hut 18km from the closest medical facility where she lost her first child no more than 12 months earlier. And there she was, sitting up, smiling and wondering when I was finally going to get back. Should I ever be blessed with children of my own, I have NO intention of being that calm and collected post-labor! Oh, yeah, and I was BEYOND THANKFUL I happened to be gone during the birth so I was not asked to help or dispense medical information in any way, shape or form... I am NOT a doctor!

As soon as I had a moment to process what had just happened, the real news was announced. The baby was going to be named Mariama Sabaly (that's my village name)! And they were SO SO SO SO excited to tell me! You would think I had been gone for days. The whole village had already weighed in - apparently everyone agreed this was to be the baby's name. The village Imam (religious leader) had already been consulted about it even. Who says you need cell phones and internet for information to spread like wildfire?!?

In the Pulaar culture, a person named after someone else is called their 'Tokora.' So I have now had an African baby named after me (and I am so thankful the poor thing was given my Pulaar name and not my American name - that's just cruel). Only the real kicker is that babies here are not given their names for seven days after their birth. Usually their first name is given by their father and their second name is given by their grandmother. In this instance, she was only given one name, seven days early, by an entire village. And I can't ignore the fact that neither the father nor mother was truly given any real say in the baby's name. It was a done deal.

What I will say is that I have felt like a member of my community since I got there, nothing more, nothing less. I know people in Thiewal Lao genuinely care about me. But I am a guest. No matter how well I integrate or participate in their day-to-day activities, I am still a white, educated American female who is only experiencing what they call life. But as cheesy and mushy as it sounds, and if only for the very moment when I was given a Tokora, I felt like a member of the Sabaly family. Mariama Sabaly will remain in Thiewal Lao long after I return to America and part of me is touched and comforted by that.

So I am now an American African Aunt. Every morning I greet my family and make a b-line for baby Mariama (finally someone in my family who speaks worse Pulaar than I do). I start my day by holding a beautiful baby girl. And just like in America, when the baby poops I get to hand her off to her mother.

Waterfall Wonderment

The south eastern region of Senegal is called Kedougou. It shares a border with the Guineas and is home to mountains and waterfalls unlike anywhere else in the country. Since I got to country, I had heard how phenomenal the falls were and I finally found the occasion to make the trip...




After five hours of biking in a downpour, I lost my grip and flew over the handle bars. I landed on my left knee.














I woke up the next morning to find I grew a rosy-red saddle bag from what we are assuming was a spider bite. It then spread and consumed my entire right thigh.










And we crossed the river first on a "bridge," and the second time we opted to go with the flow.

And you wonder what could possibly be worth all this hassle?
















Spending two days playing in the waterfalls at Ingley, that's what!
Matt, Roxy, Kay, Annicka, Jordan and I worked hard to get there and played hard too! I can't say I'll ever make the trip back, but I am so happy I went... worth every bump, bruise and bite:)