Monday, February 20, 2012

Illicit Nail Polish

My little host sister Aicha loves to draw.
She doodles, she sketches, and, above all, she really love nail polish.

This is a problem because nail polish not approved of by the Koran. At least according to her Koran teacher.

The day after my 12-year-old sister Aicha asked to paint her nails with me, her Koran teacher informed her that nail polish is bad-- especially on the toes. Apparently it is expressly forbidden on the toes and not as bad (though certainly not approved of either) on the hands. So that night, Aicha went in the shower and scrubbed the brand new polish off her toes with a rough sponge.


Later, I found two pictures she drew of decorated hands (with nail polish). 
The top of the first one says (in French):

"Nails not well accepted by the Muslim religion" 

and the top of the second one says:

"Even if certain people don't like it, I love it!"

The best solution to being able to decorate her body without getting into trouble is to use henna.

Henna is a natural plant, with color varying between yellow-orange-dark orange (practically black). There aren't any other color choices, and the color is dependent on the quality of the henna, the best henna dying the darkest.
Aicha told me (though no other sources confirm this and my Professor for the History of Islam claimed it was outright incorrect) that if you die with henna on your hands then you will go straight to heaven. 
Which is why older women like my grandmother tend to do henna a lot... they know they might die soon.

When I asked Aicha why she didn't do henna more often, she told me that young people don't really like it because it's not a very pretty color. She would probably do it more often if the henna was pink! But the only way to get pink is to use nail polish, and, of course, she can't do that.


Aicha also likes to design clothing - both on paper and with fabrics scraps that she sews together for Maymona, a once stuffed dog now converted into ... well I guess she's a BIT more humanlike?

Maymona, by the way, is in love with Mahmoud. Mahmoud is my miniature stuffed black cat, about the size of a beanie baby. So last time the two of them got together, they made traditional Senegalese outfits.

But something else was worrying me about Aicha: she always draws on lined paper.

As the daughter of two artists, I think it's important for kids to draw and be encouraged to express themselves through art. To do so, it's important to have the right materials. Lined paper and an everyday yellow pencil #2 doesn't cut it. So I decided to fix the problem.

I went to the bookstore, bought a pad of big, white drawing paper, and a couple of graded hardness pencils, gave them to her and, to make it less of a gift (we were told that our host families would frown upon gifts if we didn't approve them with our host mothers first), I asked her to make a background for my blog.

Conclusion: a great background for my bog, and a happy little sister!

Monday, February 6, 2012

To give or not to give...

One of the first lessons you learn as a foreigner abroad is never to give to the beggars.
It has nothing to do with kindness, but rather, if you give once they will expect you to give again and again until you won't have any money left.
At least, this is what I was told.

Then, after seeing one after another of homeless children (or crippled, or sick, or elderly, or mothers with babies), I started to wonder if they are truly needy or are just living off donations:
Does a twisted leg really keep him from working? Surely he could still sell peanuts like the man on the next street corner... right????????
He's probably really using all his money on drugs. RIGHT?????
I'm never really sure.

It's issue that you come across in every country, but it's a bit more intense in those with lower GDPs. Since Senegal's GDP per capita is $1,900 (compared to the US's whopping $48,100), I know I'm in a fairly decent position to give to others. I mean, let's face it:
  • I'm a poor student
  • I worry about money
  • I can't afford everything I want and need
  • I'm looking at loans and debt
...but even so:
  • I have enough to eat
  • I have a bed to sleep in every night
  • I obviously paid for a ticket to come all the way over here to study
  • And so I study; therefore, I am educated
  • I can afford to buy myself the occassional luxury item: a music CD, a chocolate bar, postcards for back home, souvenirs...
So WHY wouldn't I give a dollar to a poor, begging, presumably homeless child?

What's a dollar to me?
At home, I might accidently leave a dollar in my jeans pocket and wash it.
I might waste a dollar on gumballs for myself and three friends.
I might throw an extra dollar on the table for a restaurant tip.
I've been known to spend an extra dollar to try out a new brand of shampoo.

A dollar, to ME, is NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL. I do watch my money, but if a pickpocket came by and stole $1.00 USD, I would definitely be more annoyed, or even amused, than hurt.

To them?
A dollar is dinner. A dollar could be lunch. A dollar could be the one meal they get to eat all day.

Even so, even so. If you give a mouse a cookie...
you'll have to give the next time...
and the next time...
and the next time...
and at some point, those dollars will add up.

But does that mean I shouldn't ever give money to anyone?

The other day, on my walk to school, a woman stopped and greeted me. She was well-dressed and seemed kind. Then, pointing down at a foot wrapped in bloody bandages, she asked if I could help pay for her transportation home.

My response: "Non, pardon. Amuma xaalis. La prochaine fois!"
"No, sorry. I don't have any money. Maybe next time!"

And then, as I walked away, I got to thinking.
What's wrong with me?
What if that poor woman was really hurt? What if she really needed a ride? What if a stranger's $1.00 USD contribution could mean the difference between proper healing or a painful hobble home? And what would that dollar have cost me?

But then the doubt:
It could have been a trick. Maybe she didn't really need the money. She probably targeted me because I'm a "toubab" (white person) and therefore assumed to be rich.

How can I know who to help? How can I know if a person is honest, if my dollar can truly make a difference? Do I really care if I'm targeted for being a toubab? I mean, I AM from a richer country, maybe she's not targeting me to be mean but rather because I'm more likely to be able to help? For the moment, I still don't have any answers.

Looking around, though, I realized I was just outside of a hospital.
In all probability, her request was honest.