The Bubugol

I recently talked to my family on the phone. They asked me what common topics of conversation are here in Senegal. Some vary from discussions in the states. For example, conversations are frequently started by asking me if I know how to cook, if I have a husband and then why I don’t want one. One conversation does remain constant. The small talk that traverses constraints of distance. And that conversation, you guessed it, is about the weather.

So here I am, a Midwestern girl, writing a blog post from Senegal about the change of seasons. You can take the girl out but…you get it.

This comes from a journal entry from July 1st*

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Today marks my first season change in Senegal, Ceedo (hot season) to Ndungu (rainy season). I’m not sure if hot season to rainy season is the most drastic or if season changes are always this abrupt. I can’t imagine any other season change to be as jarring.

The first real rain of the season came when I was in a neighboring region, Tambacounda. The next two were the 2 nights after I got back. Coming back from Tamba, the roads were puddled and the green grass fuzz had sprouted. It looked a little bit like balding astro-turf.

This is my friend Faruba on said astro-turf.

On my bush path coming into Thiewal Lao, I saw flowers I had never seen before. Pink fuzz straight out of Horton Hears a Who.

The first night I came back there was lightning as per usual. Then, I think in the early morning, I was awoken to pouring rain. Rain! Ever heard of it?!!! But seriously, this shit just hits different here.

I sleep with my back door open. My roof is thatch with bamboo and straw. I woke up to the breeze and sound of the rain. It was peaceful. My back door was open, but I was dry and I could feeeeel things cooling down. Alhumduliliah. I felt cozy. This wore off the next morning when I remembered humidity.

The next day people started going to the fields. It was the talk of the town. A scheduled meeting started 4 hours late because people needed to start planting.

I also went on a run that morning. I saw red velvet cake bugs, centipedes, millipedes, bright green beetles, a swamp with chirping toads, and an actual pot of gold.

No one asked, but here are a few examples of the insects of Ndungu. I’m also aware this is so nerdy but I had the choice to lean in or not and I am leaning.

Now things start to take a turn. And no, the bugs were not a negative turn for me. Disclaimer: this post was written over a month ago and I am alive and well and fully adjusted to Ndungu, so don’t panic. (@Dad)

Night 3 of Ndungu. My family is laying under the chali and I hear the slightest of slight commotions. My dad is whacking at something with a straw broom. I ask and they tell me it’s a ‘lengy lengyre.’ (Pulaar doubles up words when talking about bugs. I think this makes them sound extra scary. For example; camel spiders are ‘nylo nylongals’.)

I walk over to get a closer look and I discover that a lengy lengyre is a big a$$ scorpion. Not the ‘yahde’ size of scorpion, but a big ass black scorpion that screams ‘not to be truffled with.’ It was so shocking to see it walking around. I realize this may be naive of me, but also a scorpion right outside of your hut in the middle of the night is quite a sight to see.

Lengy portrayed itself in two different lights. One, in charge of the night with its’ stinger poised for attack. In contrast to its menacing and strong demeanor, you could read its panic in the presence of my dad armed with his straw broom. Now, from experience, I’ve learned that straw brooms are actually much more dangerous than scorpions.

As many of you know, I’m sussi in the face of most creatures, but that night I went to bed with lingering thoughts of the lengy. At around 2 am (this is not going where you think it is), I wake up to pouring rain again. This time, I was getting rained on. Except I thought it was snow because the termites (moye) living in my roof were working the night shift. Not ideal, but I was so exhausted/ pleased with the cool temps that I just fell back asleep. Alhummmmduliliah.

Day 4 of Ndungu. I was awoken to the sweet sound of birds chirping. I opened my eyes to realize that the chirping was coming from inside. Insiiiiiide the hut…insiiiide the computer. They are actually really beautiful and getting woken up by birds chirping is lovely. I told my host mom, Alieu, about the birds and she animatedly started telling me it means I will make a lot of money soon. (so far no luck). They then started helping with my chores and a beautiful man has been very adamant about me tasting his apple.

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As rain comes, mangoes go. But, as they say, when one door closes another door opens. In this case, lammude has taken the stage. It is a terribly unappetizing looking fruit with a dirty, wrinkly, brownish yellow skin. There’s no equivalent for it in English but ‘ugly fruit’ gets the point across. The inside holds 20 seeds more sour than a lemon. I think they’re delicious without sugar, but there’s also no equivalent for the phrase ‘no sugar’ in any local language of Senegal. Add a little sugar or hot sauce and you’ve got yourself a SNACK.

Jumping ahead to week 2 of Ndungu, I returned to Kolda from training in the north to find that my home had gone through a bit of a transformation process.