Bissimilah

"Naa. Domo," my host mom calls me. "Come. Eat." I take my place on the floor around the common bowl. "Bissimilah," we all mumble, welcoming each other to the food, before digging in with our hands.

Lunch today is no different than any other day. "Lun woo lun, yego nin malo," the volunteers joke. "Everyday, fish and rice." The Wolof word for rice is "ceeb" (pron. cheb) and these meals are called ceeb bowls - a bed of rice onto which is piled cabbage, potato, carrot, bitter tomato, and fish. (Our homestay is on the beach, so we eat a lot of fish. I will not be eating fish at my permanent site, as Kedougou is far from the ocean.)

Meals are a fairly quiet affair. This is one aspect of West African life that the French did not colonize. There's no long meals unfolding over several courses, no discussions that are as endless as the bottles of wine. And yet, it's during these quick, silent meals that I often feel the most cared for.

When my mom is eating with us, she carefully picks over the fish, pulling out the tiny bones and depositing edible portions in front of me. When my mom's not there, another family member assumes responsibility. They know I love carrots, so bits of carrot always end up in front of me in the bowl. I'm not the only kid looked out for. My uncle makes sure the younger two get plenty of vegetables. And he always scoops out some extra burnt rice for them that little kids (and Peace Corps Volunteers) here love to eat so much. This basic show of affection always seems to me poignant.

Once I've eaten my fill, I set my spoon down. My family protests. "Nyakhalin, you didn't eat anything."

"Mfaata. A diyata kende. Al barka." (I'm full. It was really good. Thank you.)

"Al barkala," they reply. (Thanks be to God.)

And then I walk away. When you're done eating, you don't sit around the bowl and chat. You don't wait for dessert and coffee. You're supposed to get up and leave, even if others are still eating. But you go away feeling as though this most basic and necessary part of life is a shared thing. And that someone is looking out for you.

Al barkala.