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Published: October 6th 2005
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The Fan
Here are my brothers working on the infamous fan yet again. “Our fan is broken!” I announced with exasperation to my host parents. After a month of jerry-rigging the contraption, I was fed up. In an effort to reduce its erratic noisemaking, I had taken the machine apart four times, woken up in the middle of countless nights to shove various objects (shirts, shoes, books, markers) under the wobbly leg, made a nightly ritual of tying a pair of dirty pants around the loose middle part, and used a needle and thread to reattach one part to another. True to my genes (my father is an engineer), I knew this fan inside and out. I knew that its problems were due to worn-out threads in the top rear section. I knew it was a hopeless case unless the axle could be replaced.
On the evening of the climax of my exasperation, the blades had slipped so far from their designated location that they were making loud and constant contact with the wire cage. My love-hate relationship with the fan having finally dissolved into pure hatred, I marched into the living room and announced its death.
Maman said, “Show it to Papa.” Papa said, “Bring it to me.” I brought him
Me and the maids
Our maids really like getting their picture taken. the fan and then commenced explaining its ailments. He completely ignored me. Not only did he not accept my explanation, he didn’t even acknowledge it.
Frankly, I was shocked. I grew up in an all female household in which I was the sole member with any technical capability. I’m not suggesting all-encompassing abilities, but if I couldn’t fix it, it generally didn’t get fixed. I was expected to connect the new VCR, figure out why the toilet wasn’t flushing, and reattach the doorknob when it fell off. Consequently, Papa’s utter disinterest in my assistance astonished me. I couldn’t help feeling that he would have listened to my opinion if I had been male.
This suspicion often creeps into my mind during interactions with my host father. Whenever we converse, he always seems far more interested in speaking than listening. He enjoys giving long monologues on subjects that interest him. When he does engage in true back-and-forth conversation with us, after a few minutes he tends to assume of an expression of vague surprise mingled with confusion. He seems caught unaware by our forthright opinions and general outspokenness. Perhaps my interpretation is flawed, but I think our frankness is
My messy room
It seems that Lauren and I have finally gotten comfortable in our room. inconsistent with his expectations of our sex.
My theories on gender relations in Senegal come from a confused mixture of impressions from interactions such as these and classroom discussions. I am puzzled as to whether women are respected or not. Are they empowered or not?
If indeed women are considered less intelligent and less important than men in Senegalese society, it seems that Senegalese men would try to be encumbered with as few of these individuals as possible. But this is not the case. Senegalese men often express a preference for having multiple wives. As I pondered this apparent contradiction, I theorized that perhaps men are motivated by a desire for sexual variety, or by pride in the ability to support a large family, or by the desire to dominate more people. To satisfy my curiosity, I questioned several Senegalese men and women. I concluded that the principal motive is simply the sheer usefulness of women. Women are valuable for both their ability to bear and raise children, as well as for their labor within and outside of the home.
In fact, they are so important that the man must compensate the woman’s family before a marriage
My bed
Here's another angle of my messy room. You can see my batik and the calendar I made. takes place. In many other countries, the bride’s family must give the husband’s family a quantity of money or goods. Senegal, however, is one of the countries in which the reverse takes place. Although the tradition is not ubiquitous, the foundation remains important. The man must reimburse the family for the loss of a valuable economic asset, a woman.
These two cultural practices suggest the importance of women in Senegal. But if women are so important, why does Maman need to ask Papa’s permission if she wants to wear pants?
My roommate, Lauren, attempted to clarify her understanding of gender relations in Senegal by discussing them with our father. She mentioned her view that men and women are equal. Our father disagreed. “Men and women aren’t equal; they can’t be compared. That's like comparing couch cushions and couch shams.”
All in all, I remain confused by the relationship between men and women in Senegal. Some of my observations suggest their importance and empowerment; others suggest their powerlessness and lack of respect.
I reached the peak of confusion one night recently when our father unexpectedly complimented Lauren and me. He turned around from the television, looked at
Zodiac, Michelle, and their mom at a baptism
Senegalese women get decked out for baptisms, which happen a lot. Look at the women's clothes in the background. I went to this one, but I never saw the baby... It just seemed like a lot of dressed up women sitting around. us, and said, “You are smart girls.” Then he continued watching the news. I’m not sure if I misjudged his original views of our behavior or if he is beginning to respect the American female. Either way, he still doesn’t think I’m still not smart enough to fix a fan.
*the previous entry comes from an essay/journal I had to write for my Senegalese Society and Culture class
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