Today started drizzle and ended from mango sunset to candlelit prayers. Its sunds cracking peanut shells, sing-song greetings, stick broom sweeps, and children's laughter. Its touch is fast fingers braiding hair, hands both young and calloused. My own soft fingers smart, my neck aches from carrying water, my head explodes with pulaar, and my mouth shows little for it. But I love love love it.
I think one of the little girls might actually be crazy. But since she's so young, it's kind of cute. I called her Kalabante (trouble-maker) Mariama and in a flash of genius shortened it to "Cala-Mari." The little boy Boobacar, I call "boobs" (makes me miss you, booboo!). Hopefully I'll get everyone else to use these nicknames before they know what they mean.
I played frisbee with the boys so my rep is set there. I threw in some cartwheels and rock-juggling just for good measure, though.
I already can't wait for my next vegetable (CORN MUSH DOESN'T COUNT).
I've also adjusted my line of thinking on how I should act. I came in ultra aware of all my differences and hiding them or muting them and spending every breath trying not to offend people. No shorts, tank-tops, no agnostic thoughts, no sexiness, no wealth... but being so wrapped up with the wrong thing all the time can really bog a person down. Fact is, I'm clearly not senegalese. It doesn't matter if I wear the clothes and talk the talk. I'm already pretty much a martian. Everything I can't help doing is wacko up the wazoo. So why try to stop it? Embracing it makes more fun. It gives me a freedom I didn't even have ion the US for some reason. If I want to sing, I sing. If I want to talk to myself in Russian, who's stopping me? If it seems like a good time to skip, I can go right ahead. It doesn't even make me that much weirder. They're already staring, might as well make the show worthwhile and entertain myself at the same time! Bring on the craziness.
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