Yesterday was a holy day as is every Friday and so everyone dressed up and went to the mosque. I sat on the terrace and watched everything unfold. Its really neat. I guess if one has the means one is supposed to give to those in need three times a day and more on Friday. This creates an unparalleled national and religious solidarity. Many migrant, homeless families from Guinea-Bissau, Burkina Faso, Guinea, Mauritania, etc. and children came around the mosque to receive alms. At 2:30 all the rich people in the neighborhood opened their doors and started to hand out food and little toys for the kids. Many BMW’s and large SUV pulled up and the drivers threw large amount of coins out the window. It was like a giant piñata had exploded. It was feeding frenzy that gave me the chills. Keep in mind this happens every Friday. I think we pay a heavy price for capitalism in the United States where its every man for himself. Here the rich have a moral responsibility to help the poor. I’m ashamed to say this but it was these acts of generosity that have been the most foreign part of my trip thus far.

After a lunch of tcheub jum (the national fish and rice plate of Senegal) I met up with some friends and brought them to my house. I went out and bought juice and cookies beforehand and we all sat on the terrace, my host mother and brother too, and talked until the sunset. There wasn’t one unhappy person on that roof.

Now for the funny stories… There is a constant flow of people in and out of our house (again anyone in our neighborhood is welcome in any house at any time) and the other day a little boy came in. He asked my mother who I was to which she curtly responded “that’s my son.” Confused, he asked if I was the brother of Babakar. She said yes. He looked me up and down, scratched his head and left. Mama Rama has quickly made me feel very at home. She treats me as one of her own and I think she really likes me. I know I really like her. Moving on…I had fallen asleep before dinner the other night and I heard a knock on my door. It was dark and when I opened it I saw nothing. Immediately after closing the door I heard another knock. I opened and again no one. Freaked out, I closed it a bit more slowly and again heard another knoch. This time the darkness was illuminated by a set of bright white teeth. Bababakar was nearly crying he was laughing so hard. He had been there the entire time but do to my unadjusted eyes and his dark skin I didn’t see him until he smiled. It was awfully embarrassing and know whenever it gets dark he makes fun of me and asks me if I know where he is. Ooops.