Mosque

So I had my first mosque experience today. It is the first Friday of the month of Kar’em or Ramadan and last night I told my “family” (closest thing I have to a family here but still not the same as the families of many volunteers ie: I do not live with them) that I would go to the prayer with them today and somebody yelled at me from the road: “Oumou! Allon prier!” I considered for about 2 minutes and then donned my African complet and went to their compound. There were a lot of people there doing their ablutions. I eventually awkwardly did mine with Caw Ousmane watching me and I know I didn’t do it right but maybe Allah thinks it’s the thought that counts?

Then Grandma told me I had to wear a bubu (apparently what I was wearing would not fly at Friday mosque) so I followed her into the bedroom and she gave me a bubu to change into so I did even with little Ibrahima in the room (he’s just a little kid and boobs don’t mean anything here plus I was wearing a bra). Bubus are freaking awesome. They are like wide-armed mumus. Quite comfortable. Then she gave me a big white prayer shawl (apparently she didn’t approve of the shawl I brought even though Fatoumata ended up wearing it to the prayer so I dunno). Anyway I looked like a real African lady walking into the mosque courtyard. We did not go into the actual mosque. I assume it was filled with men. There were a couple rows of men out in the courtyard, too, and the women were lined up behind them, all dressed exactly like me. So thank you grandma!!

It drizzled some and I cursed myself for having left my solar charger out in the latrine because I spent half of mosque just worrying about it getting too wet and breaking.

I think I almost have the prayer movements down but I still don’t know what they murmur during the prayer. Afterwards all kinds of people congratulated me for going to mosque. They all know I am not Muslim but I think they all want to try to convert me and even if they don’t, they appreciate my gesture to understand. I look at it like Teale said, “when else are you going to have an opportunity to live like a Muslim??” But she goes farther than me as she actually lives with a family and fasts with them. I am not fasting. At least not yet. I would do it if I lived with a family and had people to commiserate with. I think it would be hard. In fact I know it would.

Because when I go back over there at sundown and go over to the old lady’s house with the women we do the prayer WAY faster so that they can eat ASAP. So there is “gosi” which is rice with sugar, sour cow milk and apparently peanut butter. And “burie” which is fonio and sugar. And then “toh” which is a manioc mush (I can’t even think of something to compare it to in American cuisine – maybe kind of like a giant gnocchi) swimming in sauce (so far it’s been peanut sauce or boro boro sauce which is a dried leaf derived from what is basically a weed). I honestly don’t mind toh at all. I mean, yeah, rice is a bit better, but I really don’t mind it, especially when the sauce is good. Ian said the same thing. So for those of you possibly headed to West Africa, don’t stress the toh, man…it’ll be ok.

Also, don’t tell Traian, but I eat with my hands. I mean, I KNOW my right hand is clean because I scrub it with soap before I go over and THEY are all eating with their hands so even if I did do the spoon thing, the spoon isn’t any cleaner than my hand and it’s still gonna be eating out of the same bowl as the rest of the hands, so…there you go. Plus it tastes better when you eat it by hand, I’m telling ya.

But if you come visit me I’ll get you a spoon if it weirds you out .