Saturday, May 2, 2009

#9 "Am."

Today I was walking by a mosque when a woman stood up and put her newborn baby in my arms, saying "Am," which literally means "have" or just "here." With a smile she casually waved an arm at him, telling me in Wolof to take him to America, to which I replied that I don't have enough money, and she laughed. Then the baby pooped.

Anne-Marie and I went to the beach yesterday and talked about life and stuff. She's stuck in a marriage she doesn't want and I yapped on about less important angsty topics. I think I'm slowly helping her realize she has a choice in her situation, and she tells me to "follow my heart," and that the tailor would still take me as his second wife if I wanted that.

My host-mom is back to her frigid self. My host-brothers think America is a taxi ride away, and when I said it takes a plane, they said we could just take mine, because I have one?

Aisstou is leaving for the Gambia today to be treated for her leg, which has issues apparently. She told me she was going to take my "African dress" when she left, but laughed, so I'm not actually sure if she's going to.

When a car (gently) hit me the other day, I yelled at them in Wolof and they look surprised. Not because they hit me, but because I knew Wolof. After 4 months, I'm just starting to get it.

Anne-Marie calls us "café au lait" - coffee with milk - as we spend all our time together and are practically inseparable, and with our skin, she adds, we are coffee and milk. She also told me to stop singing while we were climbing the hill to the lighthouse one time, as I was surely going to bring it down and destroy her city. I laughed, but then chased her up the hill and she told me she couldn't remember the last time she had run when it wasn't from me chasing her.

I've gained weight and my skin has gotten pretty bad. People comment on my weight gain as a good, healthy and beautiful thing, and while they still regard my boutons with worry, they always add that "it'll surely get better, eventually," with a pat on the hand. I wish I didn't start to care about it when I think about coming home.

I haven't felt ready to leave whatsoever until this past week. Now I feel like I am, in a confused kind of way.

I can't shower because the new maid is cleaning it. Her name is Oualy and she's friendly.

13 days left.