Outside Dakar

So this is how Sénégalese hospitality (teranga) works:
While traveling through Spain last summer, I met a young man from Sénégal and I told him I was going to his country. His immediately family is not in Dakar, but he does have a niece who lives nearby. So he told his niece I was heading over there and gave me her number. Then today, I took an hour long US 30¢ bus ride outside of the city to visit.

Their house, located in Sicap Mbao, the outskirts of Dakar, is in a beautiful place.
What appears to have once been a garbage dump is just around the corner, and as we walked across it on our way to the house I noticed half a dozen mangey cats searching around in the colorful heaps of waste.
On second thought, the dump might not be that outdated if the cats are finding food there.

When I arrived I was greeted by a house full of 10 or more people, at least half of which were children in various stages of undress. Flies dominated the air, landing on food, arms, and the corners of the childrens' eyes.
They directed me to go inside to the living room where everyone sat watching soccer on television. Soccer fans here must be truly devoted-- the tv image was so poor that every player was displayed double on the screen. It was a bit difficult to see what going on, but we watched together as Côte d'Ivoire and Soudan fought it out.

Mami, the 25 year old niece I was there to visit, sat breastfeeding her child in front of the whole family. This is a sight you don't see very often in the US, despite feminist attempts to insist that breastfeeding should be allowed in public. I was amazed that not even the teenage boys seemed to notice.

I was extremely impressed by the welcome I received. Even though these people had little to nothing (at least in my undeniably US shaped world vision, which naturally tends to judge based on material possessions), they shared everything with me. I hadn't asked to be there for lunch, but they automatically included me.

We ate rice and fish, a typical Senegalese dish. The flies buzzed overhead as we ate and occassionally landed on the food only to be waved away. The small children grabbed awkardly at the rice with their little hands, probably adding just as much saliva to the shared dish as they managed to fit rice into their mouths.

In another context, I would be worried about getting sick from the many obvious unsanitary factors. Instead, I felt at peace.

Children in Senegal can start eating with the adults at a much earlier age than in the US because there is no requirement that they learn to use silverware-- everyone can use their hands. And after all, when was the last time a little baby spit hurt anyone?

Yes, the flies on our food had probably also landed on the garbage dump outside. But what of it? This family had obviously gained a certain immunity to any sickness around. It might be a dangerous thought, but with their generosity I would have rather spent the evening vomiting than to tell these kind people their food wasn't good enough for me. And luckily for me, I didn't have to get sick.