Wrestling With Rocks

By the way, everyone is safe and sound, and happy and healthy. Just keep that in mind while reading this. lovessssssss, me


As the cameraman scanned the seats, Alec and I were the classic toubabs seen at any event wearing some Senegalese clothing, sitting in the good seats, and complete with our camera and flip video. It was a fact happily accepted by the both of us though, as we got ready to watch a giant Senegalese wrestling competition organized by Alec’s host brother El Hadj.
First there is the dancing. The griots drum, the griottes (female griots) sing, and some of the manliest men ever do synchronized dances, even at times dropping it like its hot. As the warm up rounds started, the griots came over singing praises to the important people around us, and collected the generous donations given to them in return. As for the wrestlers, they wear the equivalent of fabric diapers and leather gris-gris, which are used as handholds while battling. One contender got without a doubt the wickedest front wedgie I have ever seen, the poor soul. The matches are also quite short in comparison with how long the buildup is. Past times during these intervals include: rating boubous and hair cuts, seeing gris-gris and Quranic water preparations, and puzzling the relative leg skinniness to uperbody massiveness.
Now the referee was this massive guy, and Alec and I presumed him to be a wrestler who was just to good to be in this small tournament. Around the third match, things were getting a bit more heated. When the two wrestlers went down, there was a discrepancy over who won. The next thing we know, the referee has a six inch hunting knife out while with the whistle in his mouth. Eventually the knife was tucked away, though we still don’t know why he had it in the first place. While arguing his case with El Hadj, Mr. Ref felt the need to repeatedly lather his face with sand. Maybe he thinks it manly and touch, or even an extreme exfoliation, but personally I would say that hurt a whole lot. Watching this all from the sidelines in our chairs next to the Chiefs, we then got a frontline view of the mediation when the referee was brought up, they talked to him, and everyone ended up laughing and happy.
The last match comes up then, it’s a fair win, and everyone goes crazy, literally. There were happy supporters in one part, and then things started falling from the sky. Alec smiled and said “look, it’s a food fight!” for he thought bread was falling from the sky. I then promptly grabbed him and made him run away with Fanta (his host mother), me, and everyone else for they were in actuality slightly large bread colored rocks. First we headed to the house next to the compound, and then with a mass of grand-dames, we all flocked to Alec’s house. There which we set out mats for the grand dames to sit on, and they explained that this is actually a fairly regular occurrence. This took maybe five minutes. Four minutes later, all was good and well, people were happy, and I caught an ndiag-ndiaye home. Dancing manliness, great pomp and ceremony, traditions galore, all the new interesting situations made for a great night?