The other day, I went to my first baptism here. It was for the namesake of one of my neighbors. (Here, a namesake acts like a godmother - supporting the child and also sharing a name with the child.) I didn't know when it would start but sat around with some of the women and kids in the morning, per usual. One woman was so excited for the day. She told me all about the food, singing, and dancing of the day, showing off her dance moves (as well as her knowledge of American dance moves). She couldn't wait to go. Around noon, my grandmother and the namesake came over to bring me to the house. We all walked together to a house, greeted everyone, and waited as more women piled into the bedroom; it became so packed that no one else could enter, but still women called greetings through the doorway. Then, all the vegetables (an entire large bucket of them), rice (an entire sack), and oil (a huge container) were carried over to the mother's house. We then piled into another room. I was immediately given the baby to hold for a bit before other people took her to have a chance to hold her. As usual, I received the usual comment of "Dafa naw" (She is ugly), and as usual I responded that the baby was not ugly but was pretty. I had no idea who the mother of the baby was until later; she is not given any speical attention, but it is seen as a shared event for the community. In fact, I received more attention than her as people commented on my presence and the braids in my hair that my neighbor had done the day before (after the namesake had her hair braided for the event).
Then we all piled outside. We greeted the men sitting in a room next door. One man decided that he was my "cheri" and told me that he loved me (a usual comment in Senegal - I've gotten quite good and putting off marriage proposals and love affirmations). My neighbor soon told me that we were leaving, but everyone asked why I was going, and my grandma and the namesake implored me to stay. So I took a seat beside them on the cement block under the tree. A little later, I watched as the men slaughtered a sheep for the meal; two men held the legs, while a third cut the head off. It was then taken outside to be cleaned and cut. Soon after, a man wth dreadlocks and a sack entered the compound. I'd seen him before, and he called out to me, asking my name and commenting that I should get dreadlocks like him instead of the braids I had. A group of kids gathered around him, and all the women stared at him. I creened my neck to see him too. Then he began to sing. Everyone answered "Amin" a lot. I just sat there until my grandma nudged me to hold both my hands out in front of me with my palms up. He was apparently praying and chanted for awhile. At first, everyone was really intent, but as it continued, they shifted a bit in their seats and their eyes became a bit glossy as they stared into space A few more kids came, and they immediately sat down with their hands out.
When this was over, I walked home with my grandma and the namesake. The namesake had to gather everything she bought for the baby; she is responsible for providing all the baby essentials. A large group of women headed back over, led by a hired singing woman from a nearby village. Two girls banged on metal bowls, and everyone sang and clapped their hands. We entered the compound. It was drizzling, so we all poured into a small area with a shade structure. To women crazily beat the metal bowls, sweat pouring down their foreheads. I was at the back, and I peered over to the singing woman and some women dancing in front of her (after paying her a small fee to dance). My grandma pushed her way to the center to dance, moving her feet quickly, one hand holding her skirt and the other in the air with a huge smile on her face. Then she called me over to dance with her. I did the one Senegalese dance move that I know and tried to copy my grandma. Another woman paid the woman a bit more so that I could continue to dance. I smiled widely, laughing at myself and my horrible dance moves (though later most of the women came up to me to tell me that I could dance - a courtesy they extend to me, but mock each other's dancing abilites). Then I drifted back into the crowd to clap my hands and watch other women dancing.
Soon, the dancing and singing stoped. The singing women called for all the gifts to be grought over. She went through them all, counting them as she picked them up and handed them to another woman. It was interesting because I wanted to see what the gifts (especially the clothes) looked like, but they were only interested in the amount - to see how well the namesake would care for the baby. There were a lot of bars of soap, baby oil, perfume, poop bowls (toddlers poop into a small bowl which is then emptied out, and they just pee on the ground), hat, shirts, pants, underwear, coat, shoes, buckets, baby carrier (for when the mom goes to the field and needs to leave the baby somewhere), bracelets, and probably a few other things I can't remember. The woman made funny comments about a few things as she held them up and named them off, and everyone laughed. All the women had been eagerly watching to see. It seemed as though they were all impressed, and the namesake was treating the baby well.
Then there was more singing and dancing. I went to go sit down with some of the women. A bench was brought over for me. I joked that I would be lonely sitting on a bench all by myself. My mom went to sit on it with me, but when we leaned back, it seemed to be breaking and tilting. Everyone joked that my mom was too fat and her butt too big. (Women had been joking around all day.) We moved the bench to a new spot and tried it again because it looked ok, but the same thing happened. My mom jumped off it at this point, but then we realized that it was just sinking into the wet ground. A boy brought rocks over to put under the legs, and it was fine then.
I went over to help the women cook. There were two enormous cast-iron pots; I probably could've fit inside. They each blanaced on three legs with wood burning underneath. They were stirred by spoons almost as tall as me. It literally looked like they were brewing a potion in a witch's cauldron when they stirred with two hands, peering inside from a distance and addingm ore things to the pots. Cooking was a long process; it took a few hours. The meat was already in water and oil in the pots when I arrived, and it was being stirred. Onions were bing cut, cabbages and bitter tomatoes were being washed, and potatoes were being peeled. Then peppercorns were pounded, the onions, bouillon cubes, salt, garlic, and green peppers added, and more pounding occurred. The vegetables were then all added to the meat. Then the rice was steamed on top. Eventually, the meat and vegetables were removed, and the onion mixture and rice were added to the water until all the water had been absorbed. The two huge pots were now full of rice, an incredible amount. There were about 15-20 women cooking, and it was a social event. People joked, got up to dance, talked, and had fun with the work. I ttried to help; I stirred the meat about five times, cut half an onion, and pounded maybe five times before being told to just sit and watch. In other words, they were letting me try, but eitehr didn't like how I did it or else were joking about needing my help (because they had all told me that I should be working instead of sitting - they always tell me to help with things, but usually don't actually mean it). So I sat and watched the process and was also pulled in to go dance in front of the singing lady one more time. This time, another woman came with me (a baby on her back), and she told me to follow her moves, so my dancing was a bit more sophisticated (though I'm sure not much). Meanwhile, all the men were sitting under a tree talking. Baptisms are apparently mainly a women's event. Mostly women were there and only a few men, and all the singing, dancing, gifts, cooking, etc. involved only the women. I never saw the men move from their seats all day and most men either showed up for five minutes or not at all, compared to most women who spent the majority of the day there.
At 7:30, we broke fast as usual. (The baptism occurred during Ramadan.) As the man in the center of my village began to call out the call to prayer and break fast, bread with butter and coffee was provided to everyone present (about 50 people). Then juice was served among the men (and I got some too) and soon the bowls of food were brought out. I sat around a bowl with a group of men and ate with my hands for the second time since arriving in village. I think I did a really good job eating with my hands, but it probably helped that it was dark so no one could see me. But I did make fairly good rice balls and didn't make a mess. After eating, tea was served. Then I went back home. My family had waited for me to eat, even though it was now 9:30 and very late for them to eat dinner during Ramadan. I ate with them and then ate more food from the baptism that had been brought over for my family. I was also given the bread my family had bought me for the break fast. I was beyond stuffed but content; it had been a very interesting day.
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