The life of a Toubab in Senegal must be very similar to the life of celebrity in the US. Walking down the street people shout out your name, they thank you for just stopping to talk with them for a minute, and the even want to have their photo taken with you. Sometimes it\s hard because you want to go somewhere without being recognized but its impossible- I tried taking pointers from the celebs like wearing a hat and big sunglasses but they were no help, the color of my skin is impossible to miss. If I walk around solo, old women start talking with me in Pulaar- they tell me their names and inform me that they can prepare the best rice and fish meal in town, always inviting me to come be the judge at lunch that day. The other day I was in Dolol (a few villages down the river of Bow, the village I'm staying in), I was meeting with Kadtga, the daugter of the Chief of the Village, as she is a prominent woman in Dolol's Women's Organization. Kadtga, and sadly there is no way put this nicely, could possibly be on of the most unattractive women in Senegal (all she's missisng is the ever so common in Senegal lazy eye). Some people say that beauty is a power that the beholder can use to intimidate and persuade others (and there are those who use it that way), but I've now known for a long time that physical appearance doesn't define a person and the true power that they hold because as well know beauty can fade (and I don't see any of the Senegalese signing up for a facelift anytime soon. Kadtga happens to be the most influential woman in Dolol, men and women alike listen to her advice and do well to follow it. Anyways, back to my story.... the other day when I was meeting with Kadtga, two other men from another organization came to talk with her. One of the men who couldn't speak any French got a phone call while we were resting, drinking milk, and eating peanuts. Not ten seconds into the phone call was he passing the phone of to me to talk with the man on the other line, some sort of proof that he was really with a Toubab. Then about 20 minutes later he received anoter phonecall and excidedly answered (or what I can assume he said) "i'm with a toubab, here, here she is" and then passed the phone over to me. Both times I answered with a confused "bonjour, ca va?"- I didn't know who these other men were, I didn't even know who the man was handing me over the phone, I was needless to say uneasy and a little creeped out. Sometime in between the two phonecalls, his colleauge asked is he could take picture. Again, I was uneasy but I did not refuse for the sake of not wanting to be rude and who knows maybe I would have to work with him again in the future (I was also meeting with Kadtga representing my organization Ngaari Laaw and I did not want to leave a bad impression). So a Senegalese man now has a lovely picture of me wearing a grey shirt soaked throug with sweat, my nose sunburnt red, and my hair a complete frizzball- if that's not Toubab in Africa, I don't know what is! After we ate lunch and I prepared to head back to my village, I was sitting down putting everything back into my bag when the man who handed me the phone earlier sat right next to. I was so confused but looked up and surely enough his friend was taking a picture, or proof- I wasn't smiling in that picture, I gave more of a half exasperated you need to not be taking my picture look. But I guess it register because then they switched spots so the other guy could get his proof, too. Right as I was leaving he snapped one more photo of me outside the house. I have run into a lof sticky situations like this, it's hard expressing I don't feel comforatable doing something when other's around me wouldn't understand. Almost every night after dinner, I sit around with a few members of my host family and a few of their friends who pass by. They are always wanting me to get up and danse in front of them and when I do they laugh (not at me but not really with me either). It's like woah Toubab can danse, okay now let's egg her on everytime a new song comes on the radio- at first it was hard to say no because again I didn't want to be rude but now that I'm a little more comfortable with them I just stay seated and do a little jiggy with my legs.
The other day, there was a bapteme (a big gathering a week after a baby is born) and I arrived about half way through when there was a big circle of people, mostly women, around a guitarist and a few people drumming away on pots and pans. There were a few women dancing with scarves and when I got there I just sidled up to my host mom and aunt. After only being their for two minutes, Kumba Seck (one of my favorite women in town- she is lively, can speak some French, and the first time we met she felt comfortable enough to jiggle my boob and give me an "ohh girrrl" kind of reaction), she pulled me into the center, threw me a scarf and starting teaching me the little dance. Shortly after we finished dansing, she took the opportunity to introduce me to her younger brother and insist we get married. She was completely ready for me except but I replied "mi yiida wonde debbo am" or in English "I don't want to be your wife". As a Toubab, marriage proposals come by the dozen. Right now the village doctor is asking me everytime I see him if I will be his third wife... haaahhaha no (the doctor also snapped a picture of me on his phone). There are always men coming to have dinner at our house and more often then not before they leave for the night, I am asked for my hand in marriage. The boy that drives the transport from Bow to Matam is always asking if I reconsidered his marriage proposal from the first time I took his mini-bus. My coordinator and I now have a runnning joke, everytime someone asks me to be their wife I tell them I want 400 cows, not 399 not 401, I want 400. In the villages in Africa, cows are very much a sign of wealth- the more cows you have the wealthy you are. Oumar tells me that no one will ever have 400 cows, so I don't have to worry, it's a sure thing no man will have 400 but I am waiting for the day when jokingly I reply to a proposal "How many cows do you have? I want 400" and the man truthfully responds 400. YIKES! I'm keeping my fingers crossed, and you should too mom, that this never happens.
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