Death in Senegal

Far and away the biggest event I've ever witnessed in my village was the commemoration of the end of someone's life. The funeral was for a villager I didn't know - Banga had been living in Paris for the last few years. It's generally not important to discuss how someone dies. When I asked, I was told he hadn't been well. My village pooled together money to have the body shipped back to Diakhaba.

That day, all the boutiks were closed and people came from many surrounding villages for the event, brilliantly dressed. I even had six couchsurfers visiting me at the time (www.couchsurfing.org), so the village was packed.

Shortly after lunch, all the men and old women went to the mosque to pray. Women still of reproductive age aren't allowed to enter the mosque, so we crowded under a tree outside, listening to the sounds of prayer, then lined the road as the coffin was brought outside, for which we ladies had to slip our flip flops partially off and turn our backs on the procession. The entire village then walked together to the family's compound. This is the only time in 4 months I've been amongst my villages without exchanging dozens of greetings. It was a solemn procession, some people crying, others chanting.

With the exception of the huge van that drove into the family compound to deposit the deceased's belongings, the rest of the ceremony was similar to other big events, like weddings. The men with important-looking kuufies sit in a circle with everyone else crowding around in any available shade. One by one these men speak softly to another person, who is the designated mouthpiece, and who repeats the same thing for us all to hear. This was a bit hard to follow, but I heard them mention many names of people in connection to the family, as well as the names of surrounding villages. Then people began filing out (men first), collecting dego as they left. Dego is a sweetened ground corn that's also given out at baptisms. People will grab handfuls and bring it back for family members who didn't attend the event (in this case, kids).

A mountain of delicious dego.

The actual burial remains a mystery to me, since not everyone attends this part. In fact, I'm not even sure where my village's cemetery is. It doesn't seem to be a place that is often visited, as in the States.

As for Banga, Allah mu aljanno daa la a yen. (May God welcome him in Paradise.)

Meet Patrick Hair

Listed among the ranks of Kedougou's finest volunteers is Patrick Hair, an expert in many areas, including the birds of Senegal. I was lucky enough to be granted a rare interview with this highly distinguished individual.

The interviewer drawing a bird on the interviewee's chest.

Chrissie Faupel: How is it that the birds of Senegal have captured so much of your interest?
Patrick Hair: Let's be honest. The rest of Senegal really isn't that exciting.
CF: When did you first get into birding?
PH: When I was a boy and I got sick, my mom would apply a rectal thermometer. At the same time, she would sing that duck song, you know, the one that goes "the one with a feather on its back, he led the others with a quack quack quack." The rest is history.
CF: If you were to be any kind of bird, what kind of bird would you be?
PH: I've identified pertinear [sic] 160 birds in Kedougou. I've had a lot of fun watching birds. Hammerkops! They kind of waddle. They splish splash in the wetlands. Greenback herons are also wetlands birds. There's nothing like a good marsh.
CF: I'm going to give you an adjective and I want you to give me a bird that goes with that adjective.
PH: Okay.
CF: Cunning.
PH: Red-throated Bee Eater.
CF: Sexy.
PH: Sunbird.
CF: Nostalgic.
PH: House Sparrow.
CF: Evil.
PH: African Scops Owl.
CF: Milquetoast.
PH: Common Bulbul.
CF: Gay.
PH: Abyssinian Roller.
CF: So how does one become an expert birder like Patrick Hair?
PH: It takes a lot of free time. And a lack of intimate relationship. You have to say no to many ladies. When they see the binoculars, you might be drawn to compromise the integrity of the birding experience.
CF: If you were asked to rap about birding, how might that sound?
PH: M*** F***!/If you think you're going to flash that gal,/I've got some Nikons hangin' round my neck./The ladies love it when the binos a'danglin.
[N.B. Binos: street slang for binoculars]
CF: At this point, I'd like to open up this Q&A session to our audience. First question submitted - If you could only watch one bird for the rest of your life, what bird would it be?
PH: The Parasitic Jaegar in Alaska. What this bird's all about, if I may elaborate, it chases other birds, makes them regurgitate their food by scaring them, then eats that food themselves.
CF: One audience member wants to know - When not birding, it's been alleged that you moonlight as a pleaser of women. Please speak on this claim.
PH: Women have a thing for birders. You don't know how many times I've been asked to take young ladies birding. I've never actually done it. The ladies see me wearing my bino bra - you know, it takes the pressure off the neck - and they know I'm no amateur. Women like a man who's observant, who will say "Hey, you got a new haircut," or "No, those pants don't make your butt look fat."
CF: Is it safe to shoot one of those red or yellow birds with a sling shot, cook it over a bed of coals, and then eat it?
PH: You're probably talking about the yellow Village Weavers. Villagers eat them a lot. Their chicks, too, are a good snack. There's plenty of them, so bissimilah. They also have this cool chromatic...colorization...their eggs...I'll have to think of the word when I'm sober. The red ones are Northern Bishops. They're hard to spot in the dry season because they're brown. If you're a brown bird, you might want to accessorize.
CF: Who's your ideal birding partner?
PH: One who plays a mean banjo, of the female variety [it's unclear whether the interviewee is qualifying the player or the instrument] who also sings songs to me. I'm tired of singing songs to women.
CF: And if we'd like to sing songs to you, how might we get in touch with you?
PH: Write me at bignakedguyinatreewithbinoculars@aol.com. But if you want to find me, I'll be in the bush. I  may be watching you. I have binoculars.

At this point, the interviewee falls asleep on the ground, clutching a bottle of Fanta.