First Week of Homestay

02_06_11
First Week of Homestay

Today's Sunday. Two days ago was my first encounter with my host family. My host mom couldn't come pick me up from school because she's too old so she sent her Malian nephew Blonden. He was cool enough but he didn't respond at all when I greeted him in Wolof which, as I soon learned, he doesn't really speak because he's from Mali. Anyway we get back to the house and Mama Bae is hanging out with this other women on the sidewalk. She greets me casually with a wave of her hand and sends me off to my room. Its small. A bed, a night stand, a writing desk, a strange collapsable wardrobe. Two windows: one to the atrium, and one to the atrium of the house next door. All in all, quite plush. I even have a key to my room, as well as the bathroom and the front door.

In fact, the house is more like a boarding house than anything else. There are two Malians, one American (moi), two French students, the two older parents, their son (and his wife and daughter), their daughter, two maids, and two guys who seem completely unrelated. Everyone pretty much has their own room and keys and they all keep more or less their own schedules.

After depositing my bags I was given the tour of the house. The key points were the bathroom, salon (complete with TV, Playstation, and PC), and the stairway to the roof terrace. Here I found an apartment for the French man, a small pen for the sheep, and station for washing clothes by hand. It was here that I met the second Malian cousin, Papa Samba. He and his brother Blonden attend the same University in the city. Samba was washing soccer jerseys by hand and since I had several dirty articles, I requested to join him. Thus began my first lesson in washing clothes by hand.

When we had finished the linge, I spent a good hour talking to Samba about Dakar, Senegal, Mali, and the world in general. I asked him what he thought of the “Monument to the African Renaissance?” To quote him:

“It's horrible. Completely unnecessary. It cost $200 million and it doesn't even look good. He could have used that money fix the power shortages, or expand the overcrowded public university or build an entirely new university. Some say it will help with tourism but it won't. If President Wade really wanted to improve tourism, he should have fixed the roads or built a university designed for international students. That would be tourism. Besides, did you know that Wade gets to keep 30% of all revenue from the statue? Its crazy. I hate it.”

My thoughts exactly. With those lovely thoughts in my head I went back to my room to organize my things but, remembering that its impolite to hide away from people, especially on my first night, I wondered into the salon with my journal. Blonden and some other guy were playing a soccer video game, so I began my journal entry. Suddenly a girl about my age who I'd never seen before pokes her head into the room and shouts at me. “Hey you, what your name?” I stood up and opened my mouth to introduce myself but she cut me off. “Mangez!” she said. And with that the turned and left me there with an outstretched hand and a stupid look on my face.

When I got downstairs and the same girl wiping the table and preparing the food I realized she must be the maid. I thought I might have a friend there but her stoic coldness and outright refusal to engage in conversation suggested otherwise. This notion was confirmed when, towards the end of the meal, though I was blatantly still eating, she stood up and slapped the lid back on the platter and whisked it off to the kitchen.

After dinner I did some more journaling and went to bed. This ended my first night with the Thiam family. First impressions: they seem generally disinterested in me.