So many images but you may have to rely on my words.  We’ll see.

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Last evening we sat having drinks beside the pool of the Keur Saloum hotel.  Then the rainy season showed us its stuff.  We were under a roof but two metres away the heavens erupted.  Droplets from the sky bounced on the water.  A pouring from the roof filled a big bucket in less than a minute, flowing onto the deck.  Lore, Curd, Baziel and Olivia did what came naturally … jump in!  So many laughs. The pool water was warm and the rain cool.

***

Mamadou and his family wanted to host the eleven of us for lunch today and we were thrilled to accept.  CroCro came by with his car and gave lots of us a ride.  I chose to walk with the young people.  I let them go ahead and smiled to hear the energy of their words.  Those words were in Flemish so I didn’t understand.

We were welcomed by Mamadou’s father and his three wives.  All were clearly pleased to see us.  Then several of Mamadou’s fourteen sibs came by.  The tradition for people visiting is to walk around the circle, shaking each person’s hand or giving a kiss on the cheek.

Here’s the group of us, about to enjoy cashews and slices of mango.  Fingers crossed that the photo works.

Later we went inside the building you see behind.  We sat on the floor (shoes off) in a big circle and enjoyed the contents of four circular pans: fish, rice, manioc, onions, an unknown veggie and two delicious sauces.  We each dipped in with a spoon.  On the surface, the food was the reason for the meal but the aura of togetherness was far sweeter.

I sat next to Lydia.  She told me about a Turkish man she knows in Belgium.  He said that in Turkey, when you knock on someone’s door, the host’s first question is “Are you hungry?”  Then “Do you have a problem I can help you with?”  Sounds like Senegal.

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As we were walking back to Auberge La Praline, we approached an old man with a grey beard, holding what looked to be prayer beads.  Our eyes met.  I stopped.  We exchanged greetings in French, with our eyes still together.  It was timeless. 

The thought of taking his picture felt like an intrusion so I didn’t.  May I have the privilege of meeting him again.

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From the spiritual to the mundane (but could they be the same?)  The sole of my right running shoe was dislocating from the rest.  At Lydia’s home, I asked if she had any tape > No.  CroCro was visiting and Lydia suggested that he drive me to the shoemaker in Toubacouta.  I said no.  I’ll just head off to write my blog.

Hmm … I totally misread the situation.  CroCro wanted to help.  Me saying no was a diminishment of the spiritual “space”.  So I then said yes.  CroCro smiled.

Here’s the inside of the shoemaker’s shop:

Imagine the bleating of goats out the window, along with the roar of motos and an occasional “Ça va?” from folks passing by.

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Home in Senegal

So different from Ghent

But in one way the same … cool people