Senegal Oriental Sept 08

The adventures of Melina in corn land…

…continued from Casamance gallery…

A couple of days after the operation, we set off for the long journey to Janaba, Cayrre & Yapito’s village in Senegal Oriental. We left Zinguinchor at dawn…16 hrs, 2 burst tyres, a couple of police barrage,12 pygmy bananas, some monkey-spotting and a hitchhiker later, we landed in pitch-dark Ibel- a mountain ethnic Peule village of 500 – or four families- in the middle of vast corn fields.

On my descent from the jeep, hordes of children came to greet me joyously …I barely had time to set foot on the ground before Nenegale, Cayrre and Janaba’s younger sister, affectionately jumped in my arms as though I had been a relative she had long missed rather than a stranger she could barely see amidst the night. Holding my hands, Nenegale and Janaba lead me to the courtyard where, to the light of a candle, they proudly introduced me to Panda, their mother who is my age, Petitmarc, their baby brother, Fatou, their elder sister, and a good three dozen cousins.

Janaba’s “house” - hidden amongst the giant corn crops which surrounded it- comprised three huts and a large outdoor living area- there was a “master bedroom hut” where the 5 children and their parents slept; it gave way to an outdoor bathroom which consisted of a large bucket of water filled every morning from the well (built by H.e.l.p Travel a couple of years ago); then there was a “guest bedroom hut” where Mansur, Tonton and I would sleep and a “kitchen hut” where corn brew, or a variant thereof, would simmer above a fire in a large cauldron; the three huts, forming a semi circle, overlooked an outside wooden-fenced living room where a large tree provided some shade from the sun- this is where, to the sun’s rhythm, the family’s life unfolded: it is where the grinding, sifting, milling, chattering, breastfeeding, napping, playing, eating etc. would take place.

I stayed in Ibel, sharing Yapito, Panda, Fatou, Janaba, Cayrre, Nenegale and Petitmarc’s daily life, 5 days; The children took me to visit their school; Panda styled my hair like Janaba’s (took 5 hrs!) and showed me how to cook “Kadja”- rolling a stick between her hands she’d achieve what I barely manage to using an electric beater! A village “feast” was organised in my honour- musicians came from the next village and we all danced to the light of a single torch- you should have seen Cayrre and Nenegale feverishly shake their hips to the beat of some fortuitous coconut drumming… incredible, simply incredible! Yapito took me round the various village huts- in each I was offered a welcome grilled corn- the local aperitif- the first is delicious… the fourteenth less so! I shared the family’s meals: sitting in a circle with the men (a mark of honour- the women and children usually eat separately), I tried to grasp the subtle etiquette of communal eating; far more courtesy and civility seemed to surround the meals- eaten with bear hands off a unique dish served on the ground- than I have witnessed in the West in a long time. … but as dignified as the meals may have been, little grows other than corn in Ibel- I ate it raw, boiled, grilled, mashed, dried, as flour, as “couscous” and, to my taste buds lament, often as a sweet and sour stew…as a “guest of honour” Yapito would always insist that I eat the last 10 centimetres of corn stew bucket. I would close my eyes, hesitantly plunge my ladle in the collective bucket, think of England and try my best to make semi credible “hmmmm” sounds- realizing I had little, if any, practice somewhat alleviated my gustative plight!

I also took a couple of day trips: one to Iwol, a Bedick village, two hours’ walk up the mountain from Ibel (the nearest well to Iwol is in Ibel)- now.. to me, Zinguinchor seemed pretty remote on the world map…but 16 hrs jeep drive and 2 hours walk away from Zinguinchor THAT is remote… surrounded by Baobabs and practically naked porcupine needle nose piercing villagers living in habitats which I had only seen drawn in prehistory books about Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon, I felt I had somehow been transported to the set of some cartoon- I really did expect the Marsupilami to jump out of the 3m high corn crops at anytime. Even today, I wonder whether I really did go to Iwol- no words, no pictures can ever relate the experience…

My Ibelian adventures had to come to an end eventually and we set off in the middle of the night for the long drive back to Casamance… don’t tell anyone but I cried as I waved goodbye to Janaba, Cayrre, Fatou, Nenegale, Petimarc, Yapito and Panda… I could hear the children running behind the jeep shouting “bye Melina, bye”… damn it, I am part crying part grinning as I recollect their smiles writing this… I never cry! Perhaps one day there will be a little Melina, as they called me, in Ibel… Petimarc was named after Marc, one of the founders of h.e.l.p. travel, after they built the well in Ibel…there was also a little “Armelle” in the village, named after one of the girls who had worked on the project…

Ok I think its time I stop writing- tears getting in the way… I hope you can get a glimpse into the incredibly touching experience I lived in Ibel through the pictures in this gallery- although none will ever compare to the ones I keep in my heart (arrrrrrgh! See now, with the crying et al, I am even cheesy…clearly I am perturbed, forgive me!)