One mystery down, many to go. I live in a boarding house. I know the suspense was killing all of you so I felt that it was important to get that piece of information out of the way. Yes, my actual family is quite large. Yes, they have visitors often. However, there are about 8 (?) other people who live in the same castle and have various friends over as well and are fed by my aunt.
Now that that is out of the way, on to smaller, better things: Mam. Mam is my 90-ish Senegalese grandmother. In Senegal there are no such things as retirement homes. Some Frenchie once tried to open one but it failed miserably because in a culture that's all about family and hospitality the grandparents live at home and social security is minimum at best. Thus Mam lives with us. Mam only speaks Wolof. Mam is teensy. Mam is missing many teeth. Mam drapes herself in beautiful fabrics, covers her head with a gorgeous lace veil, and checks herself out in the mirror often. Mam is always counting her Muslim prayer beads. Mam is, hands down, my favorite person in the house. When I first arrived she welcomed me onto her bed, complemented me on my many bracelets (I think) , and bonded with me over the fact that neither of our feet touched the ground when we sat on the bed. Although I can't understand a word she says and it is clear she was never a charades champion, I spend a lot of time reading in her room and I think (hope) we both enjoy eachothers company. When hanging out with Mam, it becomes clear how much families have in common regardless of their culture. Recently the power went out. Like most evenings I was in Mam's room and because of the power outage a candle was lit. I continued to read my book until she began to yell at me pointing to my book and her eyes. I tried to reassure her, pointing at the candle and giving a thumbs up but she just sighed and crossed her arms. When my host aunt came in, Mam thought it necessary to communicate through my aunt that she was incredibly worried about the health of my eyes. Another time Mam took about an hour to eat dinner. She was still at the bowl well after everyone had finished. All the younger ladies were talking shit in French while she ate: "She sure does take her time doesn't she?" "Well, she's an age where you can afford to take your time." Mam just continued to contentedly eat her dinner. I love this woman. She is my motivation to learn Wolof (although everyone else in the house speaks it as well). I'm going to try to take a photo of her soon. Love love.
Now that that is out of the way, on to smaller, better things: Mam. Mam is my 90-ish Senegalese grandmother. In Senegal there are no such things as retirement homes. Some Frenchie once tried to open one but it failed miserably because in a culture that's all about family and hospitality the grandparents live at home and social security is minimum at best. Thus Mam lives with us. Mam only speaks Wolof. Mam is teensy. Mam is missing many teeth. Mam drapes herself in beautiful fabrics, covers her head with a gorgeous lace veil, and checks herself out in the mirror often. Mam is always counting her Muslim prayer beads. Mam is, hands down, my favorite person in the house. When I first arrived she welcomed me onto her bed, complemented me on my many bracelets (I think) , and bonded with me over the fact that neither of our feet touched the ground when we sat on the bed. Although I can't understand a word she says and it is clear she was never a charades champion, I spend a lot of time reading in her room and I think (hope) we both enjoy eachothers company. When hanging out with Mam, it becomes clear how much families have in common regardless of their culture. Recently the power went out. Like most evenings I was in Mam's room and because of the power outage a candle was lit. I continued to read my book until she began to yell at me pointing to my book and her eyes. I tried to reassure her, pointing at the candle and giving a thumbs up but she just sighed and crossed her arms. When my host aunt came in, Mam thought it necessary to communicate through my aunt that she was incredibly worried about the health of my eyes. Another time Mam took about an hour to eat dinner. She was still at the bowl well after everyone had finished. All the younger ladies were talking shit in French while she ate: "She sure does take her time doesn't she?" "Well, she's an age where you can afford to take your time." Mam just continued to contentedly eat her dinner. I love this woman. She is my motivation to learn Wolof (although everyone else in the house speaks it as well). I'm going to try to take a photo of her soon. Love love.
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