21 Aout 2006
Yesterday, I learned how to make tea. Or rather, at Sahaba's urging
(but gladly) I watched Fatimatou closely as she made it in a
demonstrative way, and helped a bit with the pouring. I think that's
the hardest part, it being necessary to mix, cool, and make-foamy the
tea, and to dignify its ceremonial aspect. Otherwise you're just
making tea all the damn time.
Sahaba is right though, I do need to learn how to make it for when I
go off on my own (what weird parallels are forming) so that I can have
guests and visitors, and all that good stuff. Tea drinking/making is
like THE lubricant of social intercourse in this country. It is
simultaneously the dinner by candlelight and the power lunch.
This being the case, it's a good thing I don't hate it, as do some of
my unfortunate counterparts, and in fact I've become slightly
addicted. The only bad thing about this is that tea has a way of never
being around when you want it, and then coming into existence when you
least expect it. As I'm walking out the door tea is being served. Tea
is being served at ten o clock at night. Tea by starlight.
At least 45 minutes is needed for all three rounds (usually much longer) and if you drink one, you may refuse the rest, but if you drink 2 you must have all 3 to avoid being rude. I say 'must' like I know, though I don't, because these are customs, and in the fashion of customs they fluctuate with circumstance and by region. And I say 'rude' by what is 'rude' when you, as a foreigner are running around being inadvertently rude all over the place. Let my respect for you shine through in other places. I am not going to miss class for your damn tea. I have it the same time every day - buy a watch bitches!
The newest amusement adopted by the kids on the path outside our hut
is the act of pushing giant, plastic yellow water jugs called bdewns
across the dirt. There was a whole line of them yesterday, first going
one way and then the other. At least one of the kids had no clothes
on. It makes a terrible racket. I think they're supposed to be cars.
Other things they play with include, but are not limited to: dirt,
dung, trash of various kinds, scrap metal, cans rolled on the ground
with a stick, dental floss, metal hoops, and live birds, swung by a
string tied at their leg (this last one, though incredible, is not
made up)
Halima came back from Kaedi with a bag full of goodies including
squeaky sandals and fried bread. The bread we chowed down on, in no
time it was gone, but the sandals started a bit of a circus. Joka
pranced around with them for a while, each step making a noise like a
dog toy, yet inevitably there ensued a circuit of fighting over the
sandals, throwing the sandals, beating others with the sandals, and
generally contributing to their immediate demise.
Meanwhile, I was trying to get Abu to buy me some chewing gum from the
boutique, but accidentally confused it with the adjacent word in our
make-shift, badly printed dictionary. There I was, saying " I want a
gun, do you understand? Here's 20 ougiyas, go buy me a gun! (Idiot)"
In other news, when the gum was finally, and without violence
attained, Abu wanted me to teach him how to blow bubbles. On his first
attempt, he ended up forcefully spitting his gum on the ground.
No worries baby, just brush it off and try again.
Yesterday, I learned how to make tea. Or rather, at Sahaba's urging
(but gladly) I watched Fatimatou closely as she made it in a
demonstrative way, and helped a bit with the pouring. I think that's
the hardest part, it being necessary to mix, cool, and make-foamy the
tea, and to dignify its ceremonial aspect. Otherwise you're just
making tea all the damn time.
Sahaba is right though, I do need to learn how to make it for when I
go off on my own (what weird parallels are forming) so that I can have
guests and visitors, and all that good stuff. Tea drinking/making is
like THE lubricant of social intercourse in this country. It is
simultaneously the dinner by candlelight and the power lunch.
This being the case, it's a good thing I don't hate it, as do some of
my unfortunate counterparts, and in fact I've become slightly
addicted. The only bad thing about this is that tea has a way of never
being around when you want it, and then coming into existence when you
least expect it. As I'm walking out the door tea is being served. Tea
is being served at ten o clock at night. Tea by starlight.
At least 45 minutes is needed for all three rounds (usually much longer) and if you drink one, you may refuse the rest, but if you drink 2 you must have all 3 to avoid being rude. I say 'must' like I know, though I don't, because these are customs, and in the fashion of customs they fluctuate with circumstance and by region. And I say 'rude' by what is 'rude' when you, as a foreigner are running around being inadvertently rude all over the place. Let my respect for you shine through in other places. I am not going to miss class for your damn tea. I have it the same time every day - buy a watch bitches!
The newest amusement adopted by the kids on the path outside our hut
is the act of pushing giant, plastic yellow water jugs called bdewns
across the dirt. There was a whole line of them yesterday, first going
one way and then the other. At least one of the kids had no clothes
on. It makes a terrible racket. I think they're supposed to be cars.
Other things they play with include, but are not limited to: dirt,
dung, trash of various kinds, scrap metal, cans rolled on the ground
with a stick, dental floss, metal hoops, and live birds, swung by a
string tied at their leg (this last one, though incredible, is not
made up)
Halima came back from Kaedi with a bag full of goodies including
squeaky sandals and fried bread. The bread we chowed down on, in no
time it was gone, but the sandals started a bit of a circus. Joka
pranced around with them for a while, each step making a noise like a
dog toy, yet inevitably there ensued a circuit of fighting over the
sandals, throwing the sandals, beating others with the sandals, and
generally contributing to their immediate demise.
Meanwhile, I was trying to get Abu to buy me some chewing gum from the
boutique, but accidentally confused it with the adjacent word in our
make-shift, badly printed dictionary. There I was, saying " I want a
gun, do you understand? Here's 20 ougiyas, go buy me a gun! (Idiot)"
In other news, when the gum was finally, and without violence
attained, Abu wanted me to teach him how to blow bubbles. On his first
attempt, he ended up forcefully spitting his gum on the ground.
No worries baby, just brush it off and try again.
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