One of the students in the class I write in the States once asked,
"Why do you call the village chief your dad??" Good question.
My response was this...
in coming to Senegal, the land of hospitality, it is very normal to be welcomed with open arms. My first encounter with my host family in Thies involved my "mom" talking to me in Pulaar, which I did not understand, and then resorting to grabbing her breast and jiggling it. I was told that she wanted to tell me that she was my mother, that I was her daughter. And in Medina I live with a family, and since day one, Amadou Baidy, Chef du Village, has been my Baba. I can see how it is a weird concept for some to conceive, and no, he is no replacement for Harold, but while here, he is the head of the household, the man inquiring where I am going, the one I answer to. And there are times I feel conflicted.
"For Gods Sake, I am 24 years old, do i HAVE to report where I am going? Can I really not go out at night if he tells me it is late??"
My "sisters" and I had to scheme to go to a concert in my town, and I did, I felt like I was a little girl with her sister, plotting against her parents...
"Just run and tell dad that we are going out, we will be back later!"
"YOU do it! I am scared!"
"He will say no! But he won't if YOU ask!"
It feels ridiculous to me at times. I have not had to ask permission or check in since I was in high school, but here is a different story. And personally, I have come to find it endearing.
Recently, I had an incident...
I had a student from Dakar staying with me in Medina. I was taking her to a town called Ndioum so that she could meet with the other students and travel together back to Dakar. I planned on being back the next day. We left around 3:30 to go to the road. Ndioum is only 60km away. But being that travel in Senegal is what it is (read previous blog!) we did not get a car till 7. BUT...we got a car! And then, it stopped. In the armpit of the Fouta, Aere Lao, and we were told to get out, that it was going no further. Annoying-yes. Typical-yes. Going to get to Ndioum-not so sure. So this poor student and I sit at a roadside restuarant (our equivalent of a Denny's) and wait. And wait. And wait. And it is getting darker. And darker. And darker. I am apologizing, and she is being great, and we are playing the alphabet game with British accents to pass the time, and as the shops are closing, and night is in full effect, I decide I will call my home and get the number of their friend here ( a man that wants me to be his third wife.) and we will stay there. I call my brother Samba, explain the situation, and he says to call back because he has to ask Dad for the number. As I am waiting, a FFR comes, and I flag it down, and the nicest man agrees to take us, and this guy we were waiting with, all the way to Ndioum. I call Samba to tell him I got a ride. No luck. So I call three more times. Again, no answer. I'm just so happy to be on our way, and am tired since it is 10 at night, so I forget about calling again.
And I get to Ndioum and decide to stay another day...that trip just wiped me out! :) And I do not callto inform my "family".
So when I return to town the following day, I am hit with questions from my brother and mom...
"Where have you been?? You didnt call? Did you get out of Aere Lao? What happened?"
So I explain and make no deal of it...and then they say...
"Your dad has been worried sick! He didn't sleep last night! He didn't have breakfast! He went straight to Ramata's house and the dispensaire this morning to see if anyone had heard from you. We did not know what happened and you didn't call..."
In walks my dad, "Salimata! Where have you been? I was scared! We didn't hear from you, and I don't have your number! You need to call and let us know where you are and if everything is okay!"
I felt terrible! I felt like an irresponsible teenager that had worried her parents all night...and let's face it, that is exactly what it was. And thhhhat is why I call him Baba. Because he cares for me like his own child, and when I don't call, or when I don't come home, he worries. And while he does not replace my father, he is a great fill-in. And while I feel ridiculous and like a child at times, it is great to know that I have someone that cares and is looking out for me.