Jigéen - Girl

Although it is hailed as the beacon of democracy in Africa and the picture of stability in an unstable continent, Senegal remains one of the poorest nations in the world. This poverty is felt particularly hard by the children. In rural Senegal, where a woman has on average 7.6 children, many parents can’t afford to house and feed their enormous families. As a result, many children are sent to urban centers such as Dakar, St. Louis and Rufisque to fend for themselves.

Most of the boys become talibé, students of a marabout, and receive a koranic education. During this time, they will rise at around five, begin begging on the streets at six and only return home once they have collected enough money to give to their marabout (which doesn’t always happen and in which case they are beaten). When they are not collecting money, they will study the Koran. The case for girls is somewhat different. Upon entering the city, if the girls do not have any previous connections, they may simply wander the streets begging and looking for work. For these girls, many of them are taken into wealthier homes as maids.

As a maid, you clean every day, prepare all meals and do the laundry by hand. Nonetheless, maids are treated as family—albeit of a lower class. In my family there is one maid. Her name is Rama. I didn’t speak to her beyond saying “good morning, how are you?” for the first couple of weeks of living in the house. She would quietly step aside, eyes towards the ground, as I walked past her and down the steps she had just washed. She prepared my lunches for me when everyone else was fasting, bringing the plate of food to me and taking it away when I was done. She barely speaks any French but as my wolof has improved, I’ve gotten to know Rama better. She must be about 13, but the way that she laughs has the same joy as that a much younger child. It is an infectious laugh. Her and my host mother will talk in wolof, nearly all of which goes over my head, but then she will begin to laugh, rolling over and covering her face, laughing through her fingers. I think my host mother (who had four sons) is happy to have a girl around.

I now speak to Rama in my broken wolof which makes her smile. I still don’t completely understand how maids are treated here because at times she is treated as family and others as less than a servant. At dinner, when everyone else is handed a spoon to eat with, she is not offered one. Instead, once everyone has gotten their spoon and they have been placed back down does she grab her own. Usually only the smallest spoon is left. Then the times that her and my host mother lie on mats on the terrace rolling around laughing, she is truly a part of the family.