Battle of the Bowl

It’s difficult to explain how weird it is for a Westerner to experience a traditional Senegalese dinner. Sharing a giant bowl with five other people presents many things that are strange to us. We are used to food that is inherently “ours” and no one else should touch it. The communal bowl has what can be described as food territories. The small amount in front of you can claim as yours, but where your food ends, and your neighbor’s begins is tricky. Some are defensive eaters. Eating only what is directly in front of them unless shoveled some by a neighbor, and others are aggressive eaters, often venturing far out of their territory to retrieve a choice bit of food. I am more defensive, just because I don’t know these people that well and I don’t want to accidentally take anyone’s food that they see as theirs. The most common dish here is called “Thie’ bou djen” which is a Wolof (native African language) word for “fish and rice”. It is mostly fish and rice with a couple veggies thrown in. Every day they eat this meal for either lunch or dinner. I really didn’t like it at first, but after eating it every day for six weeks, I’ve acquired a taste for it. My favorite part is the carrot. There is one carrot which is the only real source of vitamins in the meal and I always try to sit in front of it so it will fall near my food territory. Here is a little diagram to describe what it is like at the dinner bowl.

As you can see, the center of the bowl has no real owner. I tend to think of it as “no man’s land” and stay out of there unless one of the family tosses something from the middle into my territory. There is the fish, but it’s kind of hard to eat because the bones are still in it so you kind of have to dissect it with a spoon. Ends up being too much trouble. The only time I venture out is to go after the precious carrot. Occasionally, one of the family members will knock down the little food walls between each territory to eat them, but I have never wanted to because I feel like I’m a dictator invading a foreign country. I talked with another volunteer who said that he was a really aggressive eater and he carves out his territory and has no fear of venturing into no man’s land for extra food. There are also people who eat with their bare hands, and I try to avoid them just because they sometimes push food into your area that they’ve mushed around in their hands. Also, there is a lady who sometimes breast feeds while we’re eating, and I try to keep here out of my direct vision so I can maintain my appetite. The most important part of dinner is getting to dinner early so you can get a good spot. A late arrival to the dinner bowl could leave you sandwiched between two hand-eaters and directly across from the breast feeder, no carrot in sight, and you can kiss your appetite goodbye.

I try to avoid observing where our food comes from and how it is prepared. I once went to the food market on the street where my family buys food, and it was a shock to the eyes. Here is a picture of our butcher shop.

There are so many flies you sometimes can’t even see the actual piece of meat. Also street cats are always around getting into the food. One time I was in the house and my host mom came home holding what looked like a goat leg, from the knee down and she shook it at the joint and said, “Stefan, this is for the dinner!” In a way that I was supposed to be really excited, like, “Wow! Goat knee!” I do get some western food along with teaching supplies from care packages from my parents, my grandmom, the McClannings, and Caroline. Thank you all so much!

Loves,
Steve