ingestion

… not to be confused with indigestion, which I surprisingly haven’t experienced much, given the combination of my sensitive stomach with all sorts of ridiculous things—fish balls, for example, may top the list. As you may have guessed, this entry is all about the things I ingest—what I eat (and drink) in Senegal. Let the tastiness begin!

Breakfast is an extremely airy baguette, sometimes with confiture or butter spread on top. Lately, I’ve been getting sick of the uniquely bad Dakar bread (everywhere else I’ve been, it’s wholesome and hearty), and I’ve been rebelling by buying fruit on the way to school or pain au lait (“milk bread” in French—sweet and delicious) on the weekends. It comes fresh at precisely noon. I stroll down to the boutique (small store that stocks anything you might need: 50-cent scissors or laundry detergent or cheese) and pay 125F cfa, or about 25 American cents, for the heavenly pain au lait experience.

The fruit is plentiful, and omnipresent. You can stroll down any street, and be guaranteed to find a fruit vendor before long (not to mention the option to buy oranges and bananas through the sept-places window as you wait for it to fill up). For varying prices—20 cents for a banana, 40 cents for an orange, 50 cents for a grapefruit—you can purchase bountiful amounts of fresh fruit, to any student’s delight.

When I arrive at WARC, I go to the boutique on the corner to chit-chat with Adama, who serves me a steaming cup of Kafé Touba ak meew (Wolof for “Touba Coffee with milk”). Café Touba is a uniquely Senegalese drink with a very Senegalese name—Touba is where the grand marabout [Senegalese religious leader] lives; Magal is the yearly celebration during which thousands of Senegalese Muslims flock to Touba to pay their respects.

Another Senegalese drink is ataaya, which is really an excuse for a three-hour discussion. Ataaya is Senegalese tea: Chinese tea, mint, and sugar to taste. To properly make it, you have to pass a little liquid from glass to glass for at least twenty minutes (conversing all the while), until the foam reaches at least halfway up the glass. It’s usual to have three rounds, each of which lasts anywhere from half an hour to an hour. It’s easy to spend several hours on a quiet afternoon drinking a bit of liquid out of these tiny glasses, just enjoying other people’s company.

Main meals at my house are usually pretty modern—fries or rice, meat or fish, eaten with forks, on plates, at a table. However, there’s the occasional Senegalese dish, of which there are three main types: yassa [onion sauce], mafé [groundnut sauce]; and ceeb u jenn.

Ceeb u jenn (literally “rice with fish” in Wolof) is the national dish, with a multitude of “correct spellings.” I first mentioned ceeb (cieb, theb…) a few months ago—it was one of the first meals I ate while in Senegal. The slightly spiced rice, along with some vegetables of varying density, is very delicious. My main problem is that somehow, I always end up with fish bones in my teeth, with the occasional piece of sharp cartilage sliding down my throat. Meanwhile, my Senegalese family manages to pick the fish clean sans problème. I guess it’s an art that I have yet to master. (Of course, my hate-hate relationship with fish doesn’t help.)

To end on a sweet note, I’ll discuss dessert—which is generally fresh fruit, at my house. Additionally, many vendors sell cookies of all sorts, including Biskrem with a sort of chocolate-y filling, as well as butter cookies and small round crackers that taste like less imaginative animal crackers for 50F cfa—about 9 cents. There is also thiakry (vanilla yogurt with cereal-type couscous bits), which I eat occasionally for dessert or breakfast. It’s one of the best gastronomic ways I can think of to start, or end, the day.