A Baptism and a Funeral

Monday afternoon was a very exciting day because I had the chance to go to a Baptism party after class. The baby’s dad is a part of my host dad’s extended family, and I got to meet 50+ family members and close family friends. Although I had to miss the ceremony that was during my morning classes, I heard they chose the baby’s name and whispered “Amadou” in his ear. Little Amadou was very precious, and miraculously, slept completely through the din of the party. Most of the conversation was in Wolof, but it was fun to observe the family socializing. The closeness and chatter reminded me of the funeral reception I was invited to last week for a close neighbor, although there was also a lot of praying and eating of couscous at that celebration. At the funeral, there was also a rotation of people who would sing to their respective Muslim religious leaders (in Arabic) and it was interesting to observe the diversity of neighbors and family at the reception, most were Muslim, but belonging to different sub-groups and I believe I saw the Catholic neighbors too. It was nice that my host family invited me to the reception, and brought me up to introduce me to the family of the deceased so I could shake their hands. I was thankful that it was not necessary to wear a head-covering at the baptism like it was at the funeral reception, because it was very hot yesterday.

 At the baptism, while everyone was chatting, I played with 2-year-old Ahmed (who didn’t care that I can’t speak Wolof), and found out he was a big fan of my sunglasses. This resulted in an adorable picture, but since I forgot my memory card yesterday, that will have to wait until I have the camera adapter.

A big surprise for me was when all of a sudden, the griot showed up after the lunch. I was confused because this lady (at the time, I didn’t know she was a griot) did not have the family resemblance and when she spoke to me, her French was heavily accented. So, I was quite confused when she dropped a 5000 cFA note in my lap and started talking fast in Wolof. Everyone around me was laughing at us, and thankfully, my host sister Fatimata bailed me out and gave me a coin to give back to the griot in addition to her 5000 cFA. She explained later, that in modern times, griots find out about occasions and go around flattering party guests to ask for money. So much for the historian-diplomat-advisor-musician griots I learned about in African history class, I got to meet the party-crashing variety. My host family was laughing hysterically about this, because the griot was making a big deal about my appearance (I was the only étrangère at the party) especially round face which is not really a common feature in Senegal. Even though I’m able to pass for French, British, German, or Canadian around Dakar with my level of French, unfortunately there is no escaping standing out in a crowd, especially when there are vendors, taxis, and apparently griots involved.