thejunglebook: Crashing Baptisms

Similar to States, ceremonies hold great importance in Senegalese culture. Weddings, funerals, and baptisms serve as a reason for people to get together and either celebrate for grieve. Depending on the event, a special dish is prepared and the tam-tams are broken out. Since birthdays are not celebrated in Senegal as they are in the State, any excuse to get together for a party is a good one. Throughout training, my fellow trainees at my village site, Ann Marie and Justin, and myself had listened to other trainees’ accounts of these cultural festivities. We waited patiently for our chance to partake in some sort of celebration. However, since our training had wind down to our last week and then last day in our host sites and we still had not witnessed any of these cultural accounts, we decided to take matters in our hands.

Earlier in the week, we had heard rumors of a potential baptism taking place in our village. A baptism is an important event in Senegalese culture because it is the naming ceremony of a new-born baby. Anytime from a week to a month after a baby is born, the father of the child organized a ceremony to celebrate the baby’s birth and to official give the baby a name. The father usually decides the name or discusses the name with his wife. The imam of the village, the prayer leader of the local mosque, makes the name official by whispering it into the baby’s ear and then announcing the name aloud. A few prayers are spoken and then the festivities begin. Usually, a goat or a sheep is slaughtered for the celebration and the family and guests indulge in the delicious dish called lax (in Wolof) or bouillie (in French). Lax is a porridge that is served with “milk”. Imagine a huge bowl of very dense tapioca pudding with a pool of runny yogurt served on top. And then, imagine ten people gathered around the bowl with their spoons slurping up the tasty goodness. You think it might not be your cup of tea? Give it a shot and you’ll crave it for the rest of your life.

Anyway, as my fellow trainees and I were determined to attend one of these events, we (not so discreetly) asked one of our families if they were attending the baptism and if we could tag along. Of course, we didn’t know the family at all and had no idea what we should bring or wear to a baptism, but nonetheless, we invited ourselves. Our accompanists told us they were going around 4:30 p.m. – calculate that into Senegalese time and that means at 6:00, the women were still braiding their hair and not even dressed. We decided to go ahead anyway with the plans to crash another party at the college (middle school) taking place at the same time. One our way to the college, we happened to stumble upon the baptism and continued to check it out unaccompanied. Everyone was dressed in their finest traditional attires (we looked like sloppy Americans, as usual) and the women had their hair elaborately braided with hair extensions or sported a classy wig. The women of the family of the new-born had done their make-up, which at first is a little terrifying.

Now, I’ve never been one much for make-up. I think it is a fine art to master applying color ever so elaborately to one’s face and for it to actually look good. Whenever I would apply make-up, I would always feel like I was playing dress up as a child, as my skill is that of a child. I envy those that possess the talent to apply and successfully sport a beautifully painted face. As an American, my perception of “well-done” make-up maybe slightly skewed due the colossal cosmetic industry and media outlets such as “What Not To Wear” influencing what is perceived as “beautiful” in our modern society. With all that said, the way make-up is applied in Senegal would teeter on the line of over-done drag queen and perhaps subdued circus clown in the States. I have never seen purple painted tall eyebrows anywhere else besides a drag show. Perhaps when Senegalese women do wear make-up, they are compensating for the months of monotony in their daily lives.

We started off with our greetings, which takes an exceptional amount of time. Without missing a beat of Senegalese hospitality or even questioning “who invited the Toubabs?”, we were escorted into a room with a massive bowl of ceeb u yapp (rice and meat) and were instructed to sit down and eat. Eat we did! A couple bits into the mid-day meal we discovered that our mystery meat was foie or liver. I thought it was quite good. Afterwards, we were ushered outside an instructed to sit and wait for the tam-tams and dancing to start. It wasn’t until an hour later, that things actually picked up, but we witness an impressive display of rhythmic dancing paired with acrobatics. The family of new-born was Fula-Kunda (we didn’t even speak their language) and their ethnic group is known for this type of dancing. As some point in the evening, someone that it would be a good idea to plop the new-born baby into my arms for a while, which was slightly terrifying in my mind. I’m just happy I didn’t break the fragile little thing. As night fell, we decided to head back and spend our last night in the village with our host families.

If it isn’t enough that we crashed one baptism before we left our training village for good, we managed to weasel our way into another baptism our final morning before we heading back to Thiès for the end of training. Once again, my fellow trainees and I were walking around taking in our last moments in our host village, when we saw a crowd. We couldn’t resist heading over to check out what all the commotion was about and sure enough, another baptism! We greeted everyone and sat around chatting for a good hour. As the blessing commenced we decided to make an attempt to slip away because we had promised to have lunch at one of our family’s homes and Senegalese tend to a bit long winded. As we were sneaking out in the middle of a prayer, the imam stopped to yell out Kay! Togg! Lekk! (Come! Sit! Eat!). Instantaneously, every pair of eyes was on the three bizarre Toubabs of the village. We had no choice but to walk back to our seats (which were rapidly snatched up by a bunch of kids). We enjoyed some delicious lax with a group of village strangers and way too many children, thanked the family repeatedly, and finally took our partings.