Medicine

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The Bamako Initiative of 1987, amongst other things, made it easier for West Africans to access medicine. Unfortunately, it can be argued that it made it too easy, and medicines that should be strictly regulated and properly prescribed are now being handed out like Tylenol. Some enterprising fellows buy large numbers of pills and sell them at weekly markets in little baggies – no prescription, no box, no instructions (not that anyone can or chooses to read them anyway).

Worse than this, even when they do the right (and far more expensive) thing and go to the hospital, one cannot always trust the doctor to prescribe the correct medicine. There is a horrible lack of trained and competent doctors here, not to mention proper instruments and facilities.

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Djennabou came home from the nearest hospital once with a rather expensive medicine that a) should not be given to pregnant women over four months pregnant unless it was b) administered vaginally. None of this was explained to her, and it was left to me to embark on this adventure in Pulaar with her and Samba. Basically I just pointed and said “it goes in there”.  If I hadn’t been shaking mad at the doctor, it would’ve been a lot funnier.

The worst of it is that I am entirely powerless to address the issue; it is simply not my place to go and call the doctor out, and even if I did all it would do is ensure I could have no working relationship with the nearest hospital in any future endeavors. Major bummer. 

Random Weird Day

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One the last day of a Pulaar month who's excessively long and obscure name escapes me, which coincided with February 2 this year, I was intercepted between garden and bath and told dinner was ready. This being a good 2 hours before dinner is usually ready, I wasn’t about to complain. Turns out, it was a special day where people eat before the sun sets, then go straight to bed. Strictly no showering allowed after nightfall, due to the masses of disease and evil in the air on this particular evening.

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So I don’t have to bathe AND I can go to bed early?? Best random weird day ever. 

Pregnancy

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Senegalese women spend a whole lot of time pregnant. They also spend a lot of time doing dishes, laundry, gathering wood and leaves, and cooking – and the former condition does not excuse any of these chores. Pregnant women do not complain – often they won’t even mention it, leaving it to more discerning eyes than mine to figure it out. Remarkably, they do not even complain during labor. Some might go so far as to say “gosh, my back hurts”, but the rest is born in silence. Many never make it to the hospital or ‘health hut’, preferring to give birth in their rooms with either a trained midwife, or more commonly the elderly woman who’s attended every other birth in the village (in Saare Pathe, it’s my mom).

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One of the funniest conversations I have ever had involved me and the three younger women of my household. Mariama, about 8 months pregnant at the time, was asked if she would be “getting some exercise tonight now that her husband has returned. I feigned ignorance, but could not maintain a straight face as Mari, the joker of the household, saw fit to explain it to me clearly with some hilarious, if admittedly juvenile, hand motions. Djennabou saved me a response by remarking “but she’s pregnant! Her belly is too big.” Mari then demonstrated for us (and the entire compound) how they could circumvent her encumbering belly. With brilliant comedic timing, Djennabou askes her “what, so you’re a donkey now?” I was in tears laughing by the end of it, and they were delighted to have finally cracked my prim exterior.

Visitors

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Senegal takes great pride in hospitality: “tedungal” in Pulaar, “teranga” in Wolof. This sentiment generally revolves around the sharing of food, but extends to readily available baths and beds as well. Any visitor, even unannounced, will be taken to a room to rest, and proffered copious amounts of anything the host has on hand – water, lunch, tea, mangos, etc…People will trickle in slowly to greet them, while they are expected only to sit and fan themselves. And of course, eat excessively.

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I am lucky to live near several other volunteers, who often grace me with their presence for a meal or just an afternoon. We eat in my room alone (so nice!) and just hang out, until we feel guilty about secluding ourselves and go sit with the fam to exchange some prescribed jokes. It’s nice, I like it. 

Dinner

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By far the majority of Pulaars eat lacciri jumbo for dinner, which is cous cous (corn or millet pounded to a fine powder and steamed) with a sauce that makes me think of cream of mushroom soup but is actually nothing like it. Various leaves appear in the sauce as they come into season. Onions, pepper, bouillon, peanuts, salt and water are the other staple ingredients, with the occasional dried fish delight.

Some people eat breakfast porridge for dinner (suuucks). This happened once at my house, and they saved me extra lunch.

Ñankaton makes an appearance at random intervals. These are the best days.

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I can eat truly heroic amounts of lacciri jumbo. Just epic. It is at these times Djennabou tells me my ass is going to get too big to sit on my little wood stool. Only to her, that's a good thing.

Lunch

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For lunch, the national favorite is ceebu jen (rice and fish), which can come in red and white varieties. The red is colored by the addition of tomatoes to the sauce, which is pounded onions, garlic, pepper, salt, water and oil. The fish is fried, and any vegetables you are lucky enough to get are boiled until they are nearly falling apart. Tamarind also makes an occassional appearance. Follere, or bissap, are pounded leaves of a hibiscus-like plant mixed with pounded okra to make a tangy and delicious goo which is often a part of the meal.

Lalo is a sauce of medium viscosity which is made from the dried and pounded leaves of the baobab tree. It is served with rice or kode (pounded millet/corn).

Domudah is another sauce of interesting texture that is kind of like a gooey tomato soup. Untu, fish balls (think meat balls), are a good addition.

Ñankaton is a delicious medley of rice, beans, bouillon, peanuts, and this wonderful fermented seed called oogi. It is served with lalo, follere, or okra sauce.

Mafee gerse is a peanut sauce that can be served with meat and vegetables but is usually not. It's like super oily peanut butter on rice (or kode). Delicious.

Finally, some people - sad, poor (literally) souls - eat rice with follere.

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I eat astoundingly well in village. Another volunteer came to visit, Wilma Mui, and she told us how she is one of those rice and follere people. Djennabou, upon hearing this, declared there was no way she would ever live in Wilma's village.

Breakfast

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If it's not left over dinner, most people cook up monee or gussee, which are porridges. Monee is corn or millet, pounded down to powder, rolled into tiny little balls and boiled. Gussee is rice pounded into chunks and boiled. Milk is added if you've got it. Some people add peanuts to the gussee, for gussee gerte.

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These are the only Senegalese foods I absolutely cannot eat. So gross. I don't know what it is, as I love oatmeal. I guess I just have that standard in my head that they will never live up to...