pourquoi pas? (why not?)

I’ve had blisters on every toe and what I now believe to be permanent blisters on the balls of my feet and heels. My toe-nail polish is peeling. I am a pedicurist’s worst nightmare.
I’ve worn only 4 pairs of sandals during the past month- I usually can wear that many in one day in the US. Life has started.

I am woman. He is man. Therefore we must marry. NOT! In Brazil, almost every time you dance with a different guy, you might be asked if you want to kiss him. It can be annoying. It can be fun. In Senegal, you get asked if you want to get married. At this point, it is simply annoying. They are so persistent. I don’t need another French tutor. I don’t need another Wolof tutor. I don’t need a Creole tutor. I don’t need to be married. I don’t need to have a boyfriend. I don’t need someone to take care of my every need. I don’t want to be another wife. I am capable and independent, thank you!

Last weekend, Moussa (host brother) asked if I wanted to go to this club with him and his friends. I had just finished a week of receiving annoying texts from a guy self made excuse was that I didn’t want to date him because I’m afraid of falling in love with him. Fine, whatever, you want to believe! So, when Mousa’s friends never showed I was a bit skeptical. Even though Moussa has been rather stand offish, almost ignores me, I was just not willing to trust. He asks me to dance. Ok. Simple enough. We dance, he meets my friends, I even buy him a beer. We leave the club around 4:30am, and he says he hasn’t had such a great night in so long and can’t wait to come back next week. He has endless compliments about my dancing. Then, the end of the night—of course we have to go home together, we’re host brother and sister—he says goodnight with a high five!! No attempts at kisses or marriage!!!!! I was soo excited, relieved—phew. I went to bed with a big smile! I think I have a friend- just a friend, finally.

It’s amazing what you can clear up when you actually understand a language. Moussa is actually 32, not quite my age. Not married and Mousatafa and Mamoussa are not his kids. They are his nephews. Moussa is the nephew of Mariam, my host mom, grandmother of Moustafa and Mamoussa. Their mom, dad and lil’ sister are in Italy.

It’s common for foreigners to receive Senegalese names. My new Senegalese name is Memouna Ndaye.

Last Sunday I helped prepare the lunch of Yassa (Chicken with citron/onion sauce and white rice). Moussa and I had arrived home around 5am and I woke up around 9:30 to start cooking the lunch for 1:30-2pm.I watched the domestique cut off the legs because I couldn’t do it. I learned to dice an onion in the cup of my hand. Of course, it’s dangerous and I would have been twice as fast if I did it on some sort of makeshift cutting board, but then it wouldn’t be Senegalese style. Plus, if I get tocook w/ another host family, I want to show them that I can do it. And it makes for less dishes! :)
By the time I served it and got back to the plate, there was barely any left! So I worked all morning while everybody slept and relaxed, then I barely got any. C’est le vie. I guess I can take it as a compliment that it was all gone, or perhaps they were just being polite…

Last week I started tutoring a little boy in a local neighborhood. When I arrived in their humble home, it was immediately like family. It was beautiful. There were 4-6 women cooking HUGE amounts of food. Tons of color. I really believe some of the most memorable moments of life occur while cooking w/ groups of women. The colors of the boubous (traditional clothes) and all the food, w/ the chips of paint on the walls and the flowers that somehow appear in cement was beautiful. The intimacy and spontaneity- it was a moment that only happens in a travel abroad. I’m really excited to become part of the family.

One month has come and gone. It is a lot of energy to start a new life, in a new language let alone two new languages, relatively by myself. I must be patient. I must be flexible. I must be realistic. This is life, not a vacation. Phil Cousineau’s The Art of Pilgrimage; The Seeker’s Guide to Making Travel Sacred reminds me: “Pilgrimage is the kind of journeying that marks just this move from mindless to mindful, soulless to soulful travel. The difference may be subtle or dramatic; by definition it is life-changing.”
I’m ready.

I would also love to hear what’s going on in life around the world…please comment or email me at ellenk_miller@yahoo.com