Does that make me Charlie Brown (or Barlie Chown as he’s apparently called in Senegal)? In any case… Happy Thanksgiving boys and girls (and I suppose women and men for the over-18 crowd that may/may not be reading this)!!!
I know it’s been a while since I’ve written last, and I’m sorry, but for the past 10 days, Devon’s been here hanging out and generally seeing exactly what it is that Senegal has to offer (other than goats of course, which she saw plenty of). We went to Popenguine, which is Heaven’s answer to Toubab Dialow. Remember how awesome Toubab Dialow was? (it’s alright if you don’t, you can read about it by finding the post “Thiebudjen in Paradise” which is found in September somewhere over there ----->). Well Popenguine was 8.548.567.578 (that’s French for 8,548,567,578) times better. Pictures are found by following the Google pictures link (also found) over there ------>. There’s also pictures of all the other neat stuff Devon and I did when she was here, including Iles des Madelines part deux, and more fun at the escarpment. They say a thousand pictures are worth one word (or something like that), so I’ll just use the pictures and save my words for a much more important story: that of Thanksgiving.
A long time ago, there were some people who came here from a far away land to escape the developed world. Nowadays, we call these people “CIEE Students.” In November, with a little less than a month to go in their trip, these CIEE students gave thanks and celebrated the fact all of them had made it this far alive and relatively unscathed (except for the occasional run in with an evil army of evil goats plotting to take over the world). They celebrated in the traditional way of their forefathers and foremothers and foreparents who they had left behind in the Old Land many moons ago (well, maybe only 3 or 4 moons): they held a large feast, and they called it “Thanksgiving.”
In the Old Land the time leading up to Thanksgiving was a time of change. The seasons were changing from Summer (the hot season) to Winter (the cold season). The time in between was called Fall, or Autumn depending on who you talked to and how pretentious they wantedto sound. Nature herself also changed. Nights would get longer and the days would start to get colder. The leaves of the trees would change color, from the deep, dark greens of Summer to brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges of the Autumn. When all the leaves changed color, the trees would shake them off and they would fall to the ground. Likewise, the clothes of the people in the old country would fall towards the ground (no, not in that way): sleeves on shirts would get longer and thicker, shorts would turn into longs, all in the name of keeping legs and arms warm. For many a CIEE Student, this period of change was their favorite time of year: the air smelled of cold and the wind carried the spice of the leaves about.
Things were different in the New Land (as it was called way back then). It was still a time of change, but the change was more subtle. Instead of hot to cold, seasons changed from Really Freaking Hott (with two T’s) – as it was called – to not so freaking hot (note the differences in capitalization). It also changed from the Wet season (which was probably a misnomer since it only rained about three times – and for only about 15-20 minutes each time) to the Dry season (which was correctly named – because it never rained - not once). The Evil Army of Evil Goats that roamed the Streets of Dakar turned into the Eviler Army of Evil Pelicans that sat on the rocks as they plotted the demise of the boatful of Toubabs that was stupid enough to get too close to them.
The change of the seasons also affected the minds of the CIEE students. Things that once appeared normal to them started to look rather strange in the New Land. They saw pictures on the television of people from the Old Land – dressed as Old Landers would normally be dressed in November: with longs (as opposed to shorts), sweatshirts, and strangest of all: coats. The outfits looked oddly familiar, like a long lost toy from their childhood that they had stumbled upon in the closet. Yet, as they tried to remember what it was like to be actually “cold,” they found that it was a concept that was largely lost on them: the vast majority hadn’t been really “cold” in months apart from a few times in a room with the air conditioner turned up way too high.
Strangest of all however, were the customs that were imported to the New Land from the Old Land. In the Old Land, Thanksgiving and November were usually accompanied with the traditional images of Christmas: white snow-covered Christmas Trees, snow-covered mountaintops, and images of landscapes covered in snow, both the ground-lying and falling varieties.
Now, the New Land was predominantly a Muslim land, with a very small Christmas-celebrating population. Yet still, Christmas paraphernalia permeated the land. Gas station convenience stores would have white-washed pictures on their windows depicting the very same snow-covered Christmas trees, mountaintops, and landscapes (complete with both the ground-lying and falling varieties). It seemed out of place to see frigid, snowy mountain peaks in this New Land with the average flatness of a pancake where the air never dropped below what Old Landers would call “sort of chilly.”
Try to imagine passing this gas station on a Car Rapide – misnamed as most of them are in fact not rapide but quite slow – packed like sardines in a can so that half of you is sitting on some dude’s lap while some other dude is sitting on your other half. Oh and it’s really, really hot and you’re sweating through your shirt. And then you see snowy mountain peaks (did I mention this is a Muslim country?).
Where am I???
So as you’re sitting in your living room, enjoying the chestnuts roasting over the open fire as the wind blows the leaves around outside, watching football, with the turkey and stuffing in the oven, wearing your sweatshirt, dreaming of a white Christmas, remember those of us who are sweating through our shorts and T-shirts, eating Eviler pelican (no turkey here) casualties of the battle between the evil armies of the Evil Goats and the Eviler Pelicans, and are really confused because the calendar is telling me it’s Thanksgiving but the sweat pouring down my back is telling me it’s closer to the Fourth of July.
Save me some stuffing.
Love,
Jake
PS- we are having a sort of Thanksgiving feast tonight, it’s at the program director’s house. It’s sure to be the most interesting Thanksgiving I’ve ever had…what with the absence of such Thanksgiving staples as cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, oh yeah and turkey (I think we’re using chicken instead). It’s sure to be interesting so you can expect an exciting post about it tomorrow…until then inchallah.
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