My french has taken some interesting turns. My oscillating, puncuated cadence is uncontrollable and its grating away at my ears, and I say "quoi" at the end of every sentence, just like the dreadlocked badass bifalls, the coolest sect of islam in town.
So how cool was it to find out we were having lunch with ten gambian women huddled in our living room, spoons in hand, digging away two huge plates of ceebu jen. the goal here is to clear away the your little sector of the communal dish so that you can see the bottom, i mean, youre forbidden to leave before you do, but somehow it keeps getting filled with more rice, eggplant, cabbage, cassavacarrotssquashpeppershibiscuspaste and super seasoned fish.
"oh no thanks...really i've had enough.. kind of full - okay, fine, ill eat some more! just shove more in front of me, god, just go ahead!"
The Gambia: An Africa I can understand
Mama says: Janelle, you're so talkative today!
Janelle: Yeah, i'm like sooo funny in my native language! Like, in real life, i'm totally not an aloof idiot!
look at this face of senegal and the glorified riverbank of gambia that looks like the mouth.
when a senegalese person goes to the gambia, they say "maangiy dem ci angale"
when a gambian person goes to senegal, they say "maangiy dem ci francais"
They know each other by whom they were colonized.
It was bizarre. Mama was to my left and Katy the Gambienne was two my right. Two of us speak English, two of us speak french, and i guess all of us speak wolof.. kiiiind offff. We switch off languages midsentence in accordance to shifting eye contact. Did anyone really fully understand what anyone else said? Or did you just drop off once she stopped looking at you? I think it had something to do with me being a bad catholic who sleeps through mass on Sundays.
Tomorrow: ceebu jen lessonssss!!!!!!!
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