I’m offered a spoon and dig in after saying the obligatory pre-bite, one-word prayer, bissimilah or welcome, a tradition around the Senegalese bowl. I’ll eat slowly so I can wait out the others at the bowl, that way I can go for more of the sauce and veggies in the middle of the bowl, as opposed to the plain rice that is plentiful and usually the preference of my bowl-mates. My mother asks me to eat more after I insist I’m hari teppe, or completely full. I assure her I've had enough to eat and move the bowl to a nearby table for the leftovers to be consolidated with other food. My mom will then take it to a neighbor who is sick or to someone in need.
4:00 PM
I get home just in time for my weekly Pulaar lesson to begin. Today, my teacher Nuru and I are going over a verb list that I’ve had for a long time, but haven’t really been practicing. I try to use a verb in a sentence and Nuru helps correct my pronunciation. I ask about synonyms, use it as a negation, alter it for different pronouns, and mention circumstances in which I’ve heard it. Nuru will often give me excellent but useless information about where a verb came from. We always have a laugh during our lessons and today is no exception when we begin to joke about the verb Huttondirde, or to get mad at each other and then go our separate ways. I use it in a few fictitious example sentences with my husband as the subject. Nuru laughs, insisting my fake examples of us arguing are real situations.
5:00 PM
My husband and I walk to the weekly lumo, or market, where vendors from out of town come to sell their goods each week.
