Once the child is born, people wait seven days for the baptism, and during that time the woman does not leave the hut where she stays with her child.

One way to try to fit into the village is to participate in special events such as marriages, baptisms and deaths. I’ve written previously about how weddings are conducted in Peulh communities, and so I will not delve into that subject any further.

However, I have yet to share how baptisms and deaths — both interesting displays of villagers’ beliefs and traditions — take place.

A big difference

While pregnant women in Western countries are generally subject to lots of attention and care, a pregnant woman in my village, Borguindé, is treated just like any other woman until fairly late into the pregnancy.

At that point, she is allowed to let up on her work a little bit — but only a little bit. I was talking with a woman, Habata, a few days ago, and she said that she has to do all the cooking now. Hawa is pregnant, so she no longer prepares the food.

Hard work

Thus, not only is Habata doing all the cooking, but she also has to buy the salt and spices for the food, since that is the cook’s responsibility. Until Hawa gives birth,

A girl born after many sons were born is nicknamed Samaa. A girl whose birth was particularly easy is nicknamed Hoyende, from hoyi, which means "easy" in Fulfulde.

Habata cooks and spends what little money she has. However, Hawa does not go out to the fields every day, or pounding the millet into flour.

In my experience, pounding the millet is harder work than cooking, although of course cooking isn’t so easy when it involves the use of a big wooden stick to stir a huge cauldron of thick millet paste over a fire in a small, overheated, smoke-filled hut.

Most women stay in the village to give birth under the care of the village midwife, a woman who received basic training from a doctor in Djibo, the nearest town.

New policy

Incidentally, it is no longer the policy in this country to allow villagers to receive training in midwifery. But since Fanta received training before the policy changed, she is still generally called upon to help women in labor.

In a few rare cases, and generally when the delivery is going badly, the woman is taken to the hospital in Djibo, usually in a donkey cart. However, it takes a dire emergency for people to resort to modern medicine — more often they say it’s too expensive, and use traditional medicine or do nothing at all, hoping the problem will go away by itself.

Meaningful names

Once the child is born, people wait seven days for the baptism, and during that time the woman does not leave the hut where she stays with her child.

While pregnant women in Western countries are generally subject to lots of attention and care, a pregnant woman in my village, Borguindé, is treated just like any other woman until fairly late into the pregnancy.

The imam is consulted to choose the baby's name, although the family can also have a say in what the name will be.

The name selection is not particularly vast — in fact, there is a very limited number of names, which is why most people refer to each other by first and last names — and even then, there are enough Fatimata Boukary’s and Hamidou Mousa’s.

The child also receives a nickname, which often depends on the conditions of the birth. A boy born during a rainstorm is nicknamed Saaga, which means rain in Moore — I don't know why Fuldulde speakers would give a child a Moore name, but saaga is a lot easier to say than juwonde, which means "rain" in Fulfulde.

Evil spirits

A girl born after many sons were born is nicknamed Samaa. A girl whose birth was particularly easy is nicknamed Hoyende, from hoyi, which means "easy" in Fulfulde. And so on.

The baby usually has various charms and talismans around the wrists and neck to ward off evil spirits. I asked once what they each were, and was told that they were “medicine,” but when I asked what kindof medicine, I only received a hazy kind of answer.

Traditional ceremonies

It takes a dire emergency for people to resort to modern medicine — more often they say it’s too expensive, and use traditional medicine or do nothing at all, hoping the problem will go away by itself.

I also asked what the meaning was behind the black they put on the child’s eyebrows. I was told that it’s to prevent the child’s hair from turning white. “Otherwise,” one girl said, leaning forward to touch my own blonde hair, “the hair will look like this!”

Occasionally, if the woman suffered several miscarriages before the child’s birth, her newborn infant will be rolled in manure, which is supposed to prevent the child from succumbing to sickness.

I suppose that any child who survives after being rolled in manure after birth must have a pretty tough immune system — in any case, this child will be nicknamed Birgi, which of course means "manure."

Celebrating the baby

The baptism is a day-long affair. During the day, all men come to visit and give their blessings. If the family can afford it, a sheep or a goat is slaughtered, and a little piece of meat is given to each man, which is why men are so enthusiastic about going to baptisms.

That’s how I came to hear of the baptism: a neighbor came to visit me and gave me a bit of meat, saying “I got it at a baptism!” Then of course I had to ask about where the baptism was, and if the other women in my neighborhood were going, in which case I went, too.

Counting blessings

For the women, the baptism doesn’t start until late, in fact very late, around 10 p.m. or 11 p.m. Considering that I’m usually in bed by 9 p.m., this is like pulling an all-nighter in college.

It is no longer the policy in this country to allow villagers to receive training in midwifery.

Late at night we go to the neighborhood where the child was born. There we find straw mats laid out for the women to sit on, and often we find that most women are already lying asleep on the mats. Each of us present our gifts and our blessings.

The usual gift is a pagne, a piece of cloth, which the woman will use to dress the child, or tie the child to her back. Otherwise people bring soap or money. Usually each neighborhood will bring all their gifts together.

Counting the money

The older women in charge of orchestrating the event will count everything, and announce that the women of Wuro Handibe have brought 17 pagnes, four bars of soap and money.

I have made it my policy to bring two bars of soap to each baptism, so people will not say I spend more or less money depending on the person.

The final rundown

When it seems that no one else is coming, the women will make a final rundown of what was brought and then redistribute. The women from Wuro Handibe will get a pagne and some money, as will the women of Wayilde, Guere Wayre and so on.

One way to try to fit into village is to participate in special events, like in marriages, baptisms and deaths.

Eventually they will try to offer me money too, and I will politely but firmly refuse. It is one thing to accept tô or a pagne, but I will not accept money.

Generally they counter this by giving me a pagne, instead, and unfortunately I cannot refuse that because I already accepted one, once at an early baptism, and so I cannot refuse them at other baptisms without being rude. But generally, I give these pagnes to someone else later.

Back to work

Finally, after a lot of fussing and blessing and counting, it is all over, and we all go home. The woman who gave birth is no longer confined to her hut, which is a mixed blessing.

It means that she is back to her usual workload of pounding millet, cooking and washing, also including the work related to the newborn child who is now more or less permanently fastened to her breast for the next year or more — breast-feeding lasts a long time in this community.

Honoring the dead

Deaths — like baptism — are generally a time for people to get together.

As a stranger in this culture, it’s sometimes hard to understand this attitude of acceptance.

In the case of a birth, people do not travel far for a baptism. They might travel to another village close by if they are related to the family, but not much further.

When a relative dies, however, people will come from very far off to honor the dead.

Recently, a woman in my village died after she was hit by a lightening, and her children and relatives came all the way from Leo, in the south of the country, and Bamoko, in Mali — her son in Mali hasn’t been home for over six years, but he came for the funeral.

The burial

The burial itself is done very quickly. Generally by the next morning the body is taken to one of the burial areas outside of the village. However, for many days after the death, the nearest relatives and community members will gather to sit in the courtyard and receive condolences.

During those few days, the relatives do not go anywhere. If they were planning a trip to market or anything like that, they put it off until later. The men sit in one area, and the women in another, and people come to say their blessings — like "God forgive him or her" or "God protect the children."

Culture shock

If a woman was close to the deceased, she comes and chants her blessings in a kind of wail, enumerating his or her good qualities and bewailing the loss. Sometimes people give money as well, but it’s really important just to come and show respect for the family.

While the occasion for the get-together certainly is not cheerful, the mood at the gathering is not somber either.

I should specify that this ceremony is only for adults. There is not any kind of ceremony if a child dies. Also, while the occasion for a get-together certainly is not cheerful, the mood at the gathering is not somber either.

I came back from a short trip home to find there was a funeral gathering in my concession, but everyone seemed happy to see me and asked how the trip was and about my family. It was a while before I could get around to give the customary blessings, at which point everyone grew serious again.

Hard to understand

Generally people get over deaths quickly, compared with the longer mourning people are used to in Western countries. Between the hard physical labor and the sickness and lack of medical care people die on average much younger than in other parts of the world. People accept that death occurs often and they cannot halt everything each time someone dies.

As a stranger in this culture, it’s sometimes hard to understand this attitude of acceptance — one feels angry about deaths that might have been preventable, when people here shrug and move on.

Showing respect

One of the first funerals I experienced was in my training village, for a young girl who had fallen into a well. The other trainees and I went to pay our respects, and were horrified in our

Generally people get over deaths quickly, especially compared to the longer mourning people are used to in Western countries.

inexperience to hear people cracking jokes and laughing at such an occasion.

I definitely feel uncomfortable when I have to go to a neighborhood to express my condolences for a death. However, I realize that it’s important and people appreciate it.