When I pulled out the first bright yellow bidong of water from Scott’s well, I immediately knew something was amiss. The water was grey and smelled of a rotting swamp where mass burial has occurred.
“Oh my, what is that smell?” I exclaimed in disgust.
“It’s a goat.” Scott replied.
Scott explained that a few weeks ago well no one was around, a goat made its way through the garden fence and probably became curious as to the strange concrete structure that stood a foot above its own eye level. It promptly launched itself up to see what was on top and discovered…nothing. Scott being on the boarder to Senegal lies far from the river and the water table is very deep. So the goat had about 40 meters in free fall to contemplate why goats can’t fly. The result? Bits of hair, fur, and rotting goat skin pulled up continually for weeks. It took a few days to fish the goat out with cage like contraption but by then the goat had really funked up the water.
Despite watering the garden with “Goat infused water” my time visiting my friend was enjoyable. I pruned Cashew trees (with cheap machetes!), planted some pigeon peas, and disappointed a lot of the locals who hoped I spoke Fula (Scott lives in a Fula village) but could only produce the guttural Klingon verbage that is Wolof. Here the people subsist off of rice, coos, baobob leaf, and when available small amounts of fish. This reminds me that while I do not get some of the unique cultural benefits of living directly in the village with a host family, I do get a much greater level of nutrition that keeps away the vitamin and protein deficiency that many of my fellow village mates must deal with when consuming a dinner of coos moistened with water and a few bites of added fish.
|Said Small boy|
I did bond with a small boy. After hanging out with him for a few days he began begging me to use my camera...so I told him if he caught a goat he could use my camera. A few minutes later goat in hand, I let him have the camera. Not knowing what to take pictures of we had a goat photo shoot and maybe things got out of hand…
|Step one catch goat|
|Step two add goat to every picture you take|
|This picture may come back to haunt me some day...|
|Scott, his host sister and cat "Carlos"|
|An even better picture when you sneak up from behind and add a goat...|
|Scott's compound, where his host sister pounds coos for dinner|
|Tiny Momodu always has food on his face and has the talent for high pitch screaming|
|Little girls everywhere carry full buckets of water on their water on their heads, they weigh perhaps 40 pounds|
|Scott's host mom|
I am exhausted from getting back from a trek to Senegal. I am going to write a long post next week on my work as I have had a wonderful and rewarding time helping women in the village learn about business, while myself continuing to learn about the culture and the cashew.
We spend the day in peace,
(Nu Endoo Chi Jamma)