savagebeasts

Rain, Weddings, Baby Barracudas

Although it seems to have slowed down, the rain has poured from the sky this season.  Senegalese friends claim that it hasn't rained this much for thirty years.  Water has been dripping into Rachel's closet from our flat roof, giving birth to lovely black mold.  The asphalt-dirt street in front of our house is 1/3 potholes, so that when you drive, you are steering around divots, almost like playing a video-game.

Rachel's school has been in session three weeks, and she's enjoying the camaraderie of her friends (there has already been one dance party where allegedly, she was the master limbo and macarena dancer and karioke singer.  We've been following presidential politics, the stock market, and vice presidential nomination with enthusiasm, resignation and incredulity, in that order.  As president of the school board, last week I dug into Senegalese employment law, trying to read pleadings in French (!), which I mostly understood, from an old lawsuit by a former employee.  The Senegalese follow the French.  So, once you've worked for an employer, you're an employee of  "duration indeterminee," that is forever.  And the workers have all kinds of rights, it seems.  

Last week-end, we attended the wedding of our housekeeper Victorine's daughter.  Since it is Ramadan, now is the season for Christians to marry.  We joined about 50 others at the civil service, where a magistrate goes over all sorts of legal and practical details about marriage.  He reminded the bride that the husband is the head of the household; he talked with them about the importance of communication; he memorialized their commitment to be monogamous; and he turned to the bride, admitting that women were the organized partners in a marriage, and explained all the official documents that needed to be maintained.

And now to the barracudas in the headline.  Today, we had a wonderful Senegalese experience.  We went downtown to a lovely French orthodontist.  We couldn't find his office, so Michael called him, and he emerged on his balcony waving to us, then came downstairs to greet us. After getting his advice in a beautiful modern office, we walked downstairs, where two Senegalese men were selling a bucket of tiny fish to a pediatrician at the door of this office.  We couldn't help but peek.  The doctor effusively boasted of the taste of the tiny barracudas, instructing us to dust them in flour and fry them in olive oil.  The vendors showed us the lungs of the six inch fish, and then displayed how to pull the entrails from them.  We offered to buy a kilo but were heading to a beautiful bakery to eat.  We asked them to clean the tiny fish and deliver them to us at the bakery.  Which, of course, they did.  And the guard at the door of the bakery, let our black plastic bag of tiny fish sit at his feet, while we dined on Mexican salad, pasta, and Italian sandwish.

Tonight, we ate the delicate, almost sweet barracudas.  Delicious!  

Swimming to Goree

  For the third time, Michael swam the five kilometers from Dakar to Goree Island in the annual event.  He joined hundreds of swimmers, including 15 Peace Corps Volunteers, and five teachers from the international school.  As it is the rainy season, the sea is full of plastic bags, and worse, sewage.  Unfortunately for the swimmers, it rained the night before, so there were occasional patches of pollution.

Hundreds of swimmers take place in the event, including young children.  This year, a new leg -- of 8 kilometers! -- was added for elite swimmers.  

Having swum the race a few years ago when the sea was particularly choppy, I decided not to have another go at the race.  I dropped Michael at the start of the race and took the ferry to Goree.  A small island with beautiful colonial architecture, Goree bears the horrid history of being a hub of slave trading.  Thousands of Africans were captured and transported to South or North America from Goree.  So, while I awaited on the swimmers, I visited with teachers, toured the slave museums and took photos.  The island also was a defense outpost during World War II (thus the cannons).