Just a sampling from my morning
Hang a load of laundry on the line. Whoever decided to market fabric softener as ‘smells like dried in the sunshine’ has obviously never done so.
Mix up powdered whole milk for Pape. (Not formula, but milk powder.) Although we can now buy little bottles of fresh milk here, his pediatrician said that production is not regulated enough for it to be safe for wee ones. So a scoop of powder + water it is.
Sheep bleating outside. This will come to a swift and sudden stop next weekend. It’s the biggest Muslim holiday of the year and each family will kill a sheep.
Fill my glass with water from a double-bucket filter.
Ding-dong. Our wonderful house-helper arrives. Open the big iron security door as we go through all the usual greetings. How are you? How did you sleep? How is your morning? Are you at peace? Any news from your family? How was traffic?
Decide it’s a tie-dyed pants kind of day.
Cheikh brings me a cup of perfectly brewed coffee to my little workspace. Not unique to life in Senegal, but I’m just taking the opportunity to brag because it’s my blog and I’ve got the talking stick.
Reminds me that phone cards, which we use to add credit to our cell phones, are ‘buy one, get 50%’ for the next three days. I usually buy $5 of credit every two weeks or so.
Hear Pape wailing frantically from the bathroom. Run back and find him tipped over and stuck head-first and legs flailing in the bidet. (Lucky for him, we don’t use it!)
Our house-helper asks about leaving early next Thursday to beat the horrendibulous traffic as every inhabitant of Dakar goes back to their home village for the holiday weekend and festivities.
Check that the power is on (it is!) before opening the freezer.
Haul the printer into the kitchen to run off pages of Book 2 for proofreading. Printer is 110v so has to be plugged into that big magic box in the kitchen that converts 220 to 110.
Ding-dong. Toubabs arrive. Talk about the last rains (no more until June 2013) and the approaching end of hot season.
Ding-dong. Pape’s little friend JB arrives, tied onto his nanny’s back with a bright piece of cloth. Greetings, greetings, greetings as the boys start playing.
Smell fish cooking. Look at the clock. 10:42am. Senegalese meals take foreeever to prepare, so this would be the beginnings of the family meal to be eaten after Friday prayers at the mosque.
Horns honking. Look out the window and see a minor traffic jam on our little street involving a taxi, an SUV and a horsecart.