On my recent trip to West Africa, I was inoculated against every tropical disease the nurse could find in her book, guarded by my mosquito net fortress, and slightly comforted by the stash of remedies I had packed for possible infection, infestation and indigestion. I even brushed up on my rusty French, one of the common languages in Senegal. What I wasn’t prepared for is how women in this part of the world would seep into my soul, widen my eyes, and reconstruct some of my preconceptions of Africa – how they would give me a new blueprint for my own life as a mother and a woman.
Unlike prior world adventures as a wandering tourist, in West Africa I was a mama with a mission. In coordination with Tostan, a U.S. nonprofit dedicated to educating and empowering rural Africans, I traveled to Senegal to interview indigenous mothers who are working to raise awareness of health and human rights issues and inspiring their villages to abandon traditional practices harmful to women and girls. Tostan nominated three mother leaders for the book I’m writing so I spent ten days traveling to their small, remote villages to meet these remarkable women and learn what makes them effective advocates for change.
In a challenging and often sidetracked journey through the southern part of this rugged, beautiful country, I found myself enamored with the women of Senegal. During my short visit I soaked in their dress, customs, life philosophy and parenting styles. Up close and from a distance I observed their struggles and their ease of living. America seems determined to save Africa, but after spending time with these women, I wondered if they might have an approach that could save us.
Life is better in a boubou
villagers walking in their lovely boubous
Unless you are someone who prefers life in black and white, it is impossible not be mesmorized by the exquisite colors, prints, embroidery and designs of the traditional dress of Senegal- the magnificent boubou. This regal, billowing robe is worn by men and women and it can range from simple to elaborate style– although to a mountain girl who lives in weathered jeans, t-shirts and fleece outerwear, every boubou was tres elegant. From the bustling, modern city of Dakar, to the traditional remote villages, women splash the country with bold color, texture and pattern in their voluminous boubous and head wraps.
Senegalese women are known for their beauty and confident stride and the boubou should take partial credit for this reputation. Designed to cover female body contours, their sublime dress accentuates the stunning, rich brown faces, soulful eyes and magical smiles of these women. The tightly wound skirt worn under a loose tunic almost requires a suave, magestic stroll. I know, because I wore a boubou through most of my trip.
boubous at Marche HLM
A woman’s boubou is typically an original, one-of-a-kind creation, just like the individual. You choose your fabric, work with your favorite tailor on the design and in less than a week, possibly a day if you’re lucky, you have a custom outfit. It’s truly Paris chic a la Afrique.
I didn’t have time to have my boubou made to order– or so I thought originally – so I hit the markets. Or should I say, they hit me.
I plunged headfirst into the shopping scene when Martha, a volunteer with Tostan, took me to the Marche Sandaga, Dakar’s largest, busiest central market where hundreds of stalls and traders were eager to sell me their wood carvings, beaded jewelry, pirated CDs and t-shirts with lost in translation slogans like “Babe a good sense decorate taste.”
Wandering through the maze of stalls we were grabbed, quite literally, by our own personal shopper Mousa, who assured us he would lead us to the finest boubou shops in the market – in other words, his friends. Our polite pas de necessaire was ignored as he proceeded to lead us through the harried, crowded stalls. Jetlagged, I felt a bit like my 3 year old must when I take her shopping– overwhelmed, tired, and ready for a snack.
Finding the perfect outfit prêt a porter, or take and wear, proved to be more difficult than anticipated. All of the ready-made boubous didn’t hold a candle to the exquisite creations I had seen strolling around me. I had major boubou envy. Martha agreed, I needed another day of shopping to find a snazzy getup for my visits to the villages.
fabric fabric and more gorgeous fabric
The next day we went to the ultimate fabric and design source in Dakar: Marche HLM, where hundreds, no more like thousands of stalls exhibited rolls of wax-dyed bazins (fabrics beaten to a shine with wooden clubs), vibrant African prints, embroidered cloth, lace, silks, ribbons, beads, sequins, and even stalls of shoes, bags and jewelry to complete your ensemble. The fabric – or tissu is displayed in tall stacks and you could easily spend weeks sifting through an endless selection of wearable art like the wax cotton tribal prints with animal and fauna, delicate silks with interwoven lace, tie-dyes and indigos, and rich solids for the grand male boubous. There must be enough fabric in Senegal to blanket the entire country and neighboring Mali.
In a sea of a thousands tailors, fabric traders and buzzing antique sewing machines, I finally found my boubou. The sad truth is I never really adored my dress because it didn’t wear my personal signature–I vowed I would return to Senegal someday and design my perfect boubou. Until then, the chosen one did serve me well.
When I walked down the street in my t-shirt and skirt, I was hassled repeatedly by men trying to lead me around, talk to me, take me somewhere or sell me something. “Are you married?” “Yes, I am married” was then followed by “Are you sure?” “And where is your husband?” they would prod. My elusive spouse spent a lot of time back at the hotel room on this trip.
When I donned my bright purple boubou, complete with pink embroidered headwrap, women and men would stop me on the street to say vous etes tres jolie – you look so pretty - in the most sincere, flattering way. (I only recently discovered the headwrap is a dead giveaway that you’re taken.)
I felt as proud as a purple peacock strutting down the streets in my traditional Senegalese wear. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so special at home. In Senegal, mothers and older women always dress their best in public, even those who live in small, simple villages. They believe your dress shows the respect you have for yourself and for others.
Adiaratou in a boubou she designed and made herself
Now back home in my “I don’t get no respect” jeans and t-shirts I still remember how nice it was to look and feel like a princess. It has inspired me to put a bit more thought into my dress these days, particularly when I feel one of those over 40 moods coming on. No formalwear to the grocery store or anything silly, but lately I’ve been peering into that lonely corner of my closet where my ‘nice clothes’ live. You know the ones you think you’ll wear for that fancy luncheon you never get invited to? I’ll wear a dressy shirt for date nights with my husband and don a skirt for the PTA meeting just to feel more feminine. The other day a woman at the movie theatre told me I looked so nice in my blouse. And I thought I needed a boubou…
The simple art of seduction
In Senegal, a dominantly Muslim country, traditional clothing is definitely not intended to accentuate female curves. Although the younger generation tend to follow the western trend of tight jeans and shirts, the older, boubou clad Senegale women are the ones who radiate wisdom, beauty and sex appeal in this country. They must understand it’s best to leave certain things to the imagination. Hidden treasures are their tools of seduction.
the lady with the love potions at Marche Sandaga
On any busy street market in Senegal you will find stalls specifically geared to assist women in the universal quest for sex appeal. In addition to a random assortment of colorful bras and undergarments strung like Christmas lights, there are bottles of strange, brownish, herb-like matter that are the basis for perfumes created custom (just like the boubou) for each woman.
“Lady, you come and I make you smell pretty” beckoned the voluptuous woman with big brown eyes and a string of brassieres hanging behind her table. She thrust a jar of potent substance under my nose and told me this one was perfect- just for me. Did she have some secret insight into my pheromones? How did she know what would drive the men wild? She did look sort of like a fortune teller. I guess this was kind of like the cosmetic section at Macy’s- except without the ladies in neat white coats and impeccable manicures.
She also carried traditional Senegalese charms for lovemaking. The bin bin are strands of beads meant to be worn below the waist as they make a stimulating sound and the bethio is a little skirt made of strips that hangs from the hips down past the crotch like a hula skirt. Supposedly this little ensemble, complete with your custom incense and a few cooking secrets will keep your man from straying. I bought some bin bins, figuring I’d give my husband a show and then pass them to my 7-year old to wear as a necklace. I think in Senegal this might be akin to wearing a thong around your head.
I do believe the women of Senegal are on to something. When you keep your charms under wraps, instead of letting it all hang out, you hold the true power of being a woman.
Equality is in your head
For centuries, the mothers of West Africa have maintained an unspoken power in their communities. As the primary workers – planting crops, gathering and preparing food, transporting water, maintaining homes, raising families, and some as highly skilled artisans – they are the true life-force of the village. As an unfortunate result, many young girls are not allowed to continue with their schooling because they are needed at home to help their mothers with this work. Gradually, as more women in Africa are finding their voice, they are beginning to address some of these inequities in their society.
Adriatou, a vivacious, stunning mother of five who is leading her village in the recognition of human rights and importance of education, told me with cool confidence that “equality is in your own head.” She said for many women and girls, once they understand they are competent and capable of achieving – this is what keeps their head lifted in the face on inequality and lack of opportunity.
women gathering water from a well
These women do hold their heads high, carrying huge buckets of water and metal bowls containing the family’s next meal, sometimes for miles. Throughout West Africa I was awestruck by women walking the city streets or rural dirt roads all with proud, magestic strides, babies strapped to their backs, and containers cleverly balanced on their head. They have a cool confidence I have never seen anywhere. These women, these mothers, they understand their significance. The men understand too. This is why many males in the villages have embraced the changes that are taking place with the advancement of health and human rights in Senegal. They see that when their women and children thrive under more equitable conditions, the entire community benefits.
Each young girl I talked with during my travels in West Africa dreamed of continuing school and pursuing some type of profession. Many wanted to be teachers. Fathou, a bright-eyed 14 year old I met in The Gambia told me she wanted to study math someday. I wondered if this charming girl selling bananas at the ferry would find a way to follow her chosen path. Ame, a 12 year old street vendor in Zinginchor, a city at the southern border of Senegal and Guinea Bissau, told me she wanted to be a doctor. As the women in Africa begin to understand and reclaim their rights, their dreams may inch closer to reality in the future.
girls in Sinthiou school
young Fatou and friends in The Gambia
Patience, my dear
Ndank Ndank is a Wolof term in Senegal, meaning little by little; a mantra in Senegal and I assume through most of West Africa. I talked with a dozen mothers and fathers about the future of women and their daughters. Each affirmed that you must work daily to promote new ideas of equality, but you must also be patient for lasting change to come.
“Change happens through slow and steady effort,” said Fatou, a 66-year old mother to twelve children. In Fatou’s village they recently declared a formal end to child marriages and female circumcision- a traditional practice in place for centuries and prevalent throughout much of West Africa. Such a monumental change was only the result of patient effort by indigenous women who became educated in health and human rights and slowly, yet methodically, informed others in their villages about this new way of thinking and living . Fatou became involved in this effort when she came to realize that she had a “right” not to bear more children!
patient fruit vendors in Bignona
To an impatient Westerner, waiting decades for change seems so painful and outrageous. When you travel in Africa, however, it becomes easier to understand this necessity when you witness the patience required just for daily living. You must let go of your need to get anything or anywhere quickly; there was no fast food, speedy car repair, or gold member service anywhere I could find in rural Senegal– except perhaps the tailor who whipped out two lovely skirts for my daughters in an hour when I told him I was leaving the next morning.
The more you relax, the quicker you get things done is another Wolof saying I try to repeat now in times of panic.
It seems to contradict our American ethic that only hard work, determination, and a Blackberry produce results. But I see this adage ring true in my own life when I try too hard to produce the details, like the perfect chapter, an ideal outing, or obedience in my children. When I take the pleasure out of the daily journey and lose sight of the big picture, I also lose some freedom and inspiration. If I consciously breathe, relax and release the fierce expectations and go more with the flow, the unexpected gifts and serendipitous moment seem to present themselves.
"Child circumcisions and marraiges- never again in Sinthiou Village"
It takes a village
It must be easier to relax as a mother in Senegal in a place where you have a huge extended family and neighbors helping you raise your family. Fatou and her twelve children was a concept hard for me to wrap my head around with my own two small children requiring more time and energy than I can barely muster by the end of each day. Yet in most of rural Africa, mothers don’t have to think much about babysitters, daycare or who will help them with your children when they need to step away. Women are surrounded by support. When I asked my friend Lamine about parenting in Senegal, he remarked that it is your neighbor’s honor to watch your child when you are away. Senegalese don’t understand the concept of paying or even asking someone to care for your child. Your community is comme des parents – like family. You look out for each other.
Fatou and neighbor caring for the children
For my first interview, we arrived in Madelene’s village mid afternoon and were immediately surrounded by six women, all giddy with excitement to have a visitor from so far away. Immediately I was handed a small infant. He didn’t fuss or even look perplexed, as he must be used to this. I never determined who was the mother of the sweet child I held in my arms and I suppose it didn’t really matter. As I watched eight-year old girls assume their household chores with small babies tied to their backs, it occurred to me that every woman is a caregiver in these villages, regardless if they have conceived. I couldn’t envision my own spirited daughter of the same age having that sense of responsibility.
Madelene's daughter Gnima and cousins
The women touched my face softly with their rough, weathered hands, smiled and giggled. Some gave me drawings they had sketched with hearts, Disney characters and the few English words they had learned, like “I Love You”. After our interviews, we were served us a lovely two dish meal- complete with whole fish and ample vegetables, delicacies normally reserved for special occasions. Then outside in a large courtyard shaded by an enormous baobab tree, somehow we all ended up dancing, twirling and gyrating to an imaginary melody and the beat of clapping hands. We laughed hard. My belly and heart were full.
dance- the universal language
As we departed, Madelene and her family gave me and Jesse (my guide and translator from Tostan) t-shirts, silver bracelets and fruit from their orchard. These women, who had so little, offered all they had to give. I felt slightly embarrassed I had only brought a few gifts of jewelry to give them and I was even more saddened to think I would probably never have the opportunity to host them in my own home.
After only two hours in Sindian Village, I felt like family.
To be welcomed so warmly into this rural community and others I visited in Senegal, reminded me of the deep connection women have worldwide. The lives of these mothers – and now mine- were intertwined.
When we open ourselves, our homes and our families to others, it seems we lessen our burdens as parents and find more ease in living.
my new family in Senegal
Eat with your hands, heart and herd
In Senegal, the land of hospitality, I was told you would never find a hungry man- or woman.
The Muslim faith requires you share what food you have with anyone who needs a meal. Even Moussa, our temperamental Senegalese driver, was always well fed in each new town we visited. This right to sustenance brings strangers together at mealtime. Eating is rarely – if ever – done alone.
I had my first taste of traditional Senegalese food at the Tostan office in Dakar, where a fresh lunch cooked onsite is served daily on the rooftop to all employees, volunteers and guests. Martha told me I should remove my shoes and then watch how other women seated themselves on a woven mat on the floor, with knees bent to the side (the only way physically possible in a boubou), circling a large metal bowl with rice and a steaming reddish-orange stew centerpiece called thieboudienne.
lunch at Tostan
This large round bowl is essentially like a huge pie and you have your own slice or section reserved to eat with either your right hand or a spoon. The spoons, I discovered, are only there for foreigners like me who haven’t mastered the art of the three finger dip.
During the meal, carefully arranged larger chunks of meat or fish in the stew are broken up by your host, who passes you portions as you scoop small amounts of carrots, cassava and other vegetables and rice you wish to eat to your area of the dish. There are no separate plates- so clean up time is simple; there is only one bowl or platter to wash. This system also ensures there is little food waste. When I think about the quantity of food Americans toss hourly in the garbage because of our heaping plated portions, I cringe. I wish our forefathers had thought of this big bowl dining approach!
Rarely is a napkin available- fingers are just licked clean. The entire system is highly efficient and environmentally friendly, and if you wash your hands before your meal like mother always told you to do, somewhat hygienic.
When you have filled your belly with all the rice and stew it can hold- after your Senegalese friends have insisted you must eat more- you excuse yourself at any time and just walk away. You have your drink of water or sweet tea after the meal, away from the seating. I wonder how I will explain this someday to my daughters who have finally been trained to stay at the table until we excuse them.
I was also told that all food in Senegal is organic.
fresh roadside oysters in Ziguinchor
In this country where you watch your next meal carried to shore by the long, wooden fishing pirogues, herded in front of your car along dusty roads, chased clucking through village streets, and growing in abundant fields and orchards under a warm African sun – you understand what truly organic means.
After lunch in Madelene’s village, the women took me out back to show me the grains from their field. Rice and millet- the mainstay of our meal – was spread on a wire tray drying in the afternoon sunshine. It was probably the nearest I’ve come to eating farm to table. Wandering the local markets in the villages it occurs to you there is no refrigeration- the protein you will eat has been caught or slaughtered that day (you hope) and the vegetables in your stew were from this week’s bounty. I have a new definition of fresh food.
Madelene shows me our lunch
Seafood is the mainstay of the Senegalese diet, as they are one of the fortunate countries in Africa to have a coast and fishing industry. The meats eaten less frequently are beef, lamb, and chicken. You’ll rarely find pork on the menu in this Muslim country, but I did see quite a few wild boar parading the streets in Ziguinchor like they were sacred cows.
Peanuts are the main crop of Senegal and you can always find a child willing to sell you a bag of freshly roasted shelled peanuts. Many local dishes, like mafe are prepared with sauces containing fresh peanuts. Bananas and citrus fruits are also for sale in abundance on the streets by a salesforce of young, eager vendors who know the art of the deal. People here are inextricable connected to each other and their food.
If you want to experience a taste of West Africa and keep dishes to a minimum for your next dinner party, try the yummy mafe recipe below and serve it on a bed of hot rice in a large communal bowl. We had a group of friends and a few Senegalese men working in our town over for dinner last week and they all gave it an official thumbs up.
service with a BIG smile
Peanut Stew (Mafe)
2 pounds lamb or beef stew meat
2 teaspoons salt, more to taste
1 teaspoon black pepper, more to taste
1 tablespoon peanut oil
1 1/2 cups diced onions
6 cloves garlic, chopped
2 cups chopped tomatoes
3/4 cup peanut butter, preferably natural, unsweetened
6 ounces tomato paste (1 small can)
2 cans (14 ounces) chicken broth
1 scotch bonnet or habanero chili, split but left whole
2 large carrots, peeled, cut into 6 large pieces
1 large sweet potato or yam, peeled, cut into 6 large pieces
1 head of cabbage or cauliflower, cored, cut into 6 large pieces
sliced red and yellow peppers, plus chopped peanuts for garnish
Cooked white rice for serving.
1. Season lamb with 1 1/2 teaspoons salt and the black pepper. Pour oil into a wide, heavy-bottomed 8-quart pot over high heat. When oil shimmers, sear lamb in batches, taking care not to crowd pan, until browned all over. Reserve.
2. Add onions and garlic to pan and sauté, stirring, until onions just begin to brown. Add tomatoes. Whisk peanut butter with 1 1/2 cups hot water and reserve; whisk tomato paste with 1 cup water and reserve. When fresh tomatoes have nearly broken down (about 5 minutes), add diluted peanut butter, diluted tomato paste, chicken broth, chili, and remaining salt, and cover.
3. When stew begins to simmer, reduce heat to medium-low and add lamb. Let simmer, partially covered, 35 minutes. Add carrots and potatoes, and let simmer 25 minutes more, then add cabbage or cauliflower. Continue to cook until vegetables are fork tender, about 20 minutes. Season to taste with salt and black pepper. Discard chili. Let stew rest 5 minutes, then ladle over hot, cooked white rice on a large platter. Garnish
Yield: 6 servings.
and you think you have your hands full?
More than 3 billion people in the world exist on less than a dollar a day. Two mothers were so concerned by this reality they created Global Goods Partners (GGP), a nonprofit organization that ensures income from goods made in the developing world is received directly by those who produced them. What is unique about their venture is they give impoverished women around the world access to markets through school fundraising programs in the United States. Their merchandise – mainly handcrafted jewelry and clothing – is sold by students to generate school funds and help raise awareness of the challenges these disadvantaged communities face. With technical assistance, grant support, and the personal, caring attention GGP gives to each of its partners, women are building stronger, healthier communities.
