The Running of the Konkoron

My introduction to the konkoron began innocently one fall day.  I went out onto the Kolda streets and was immersed in a huge crowd of men and boys.  At the front of this crowd is... a thing.  I'm not sure how to describe it, so good thing I have pictures.  It's like a cross between Bigfoot and a tree, if either of those things wielded machetes.  I escaped unscathed, but my next encounter involved me riding my bike and a konkoron chasing me with a machete (I won).

WHAT IS GOING ON?

  In Senegal, males aren't circumcised until they are around 8-10 years old.  A respected, older man in the community will take them into his hut and perform the surgery.  Once they are circumcised, they are now men.  The day of circumcision they are pampered and petted, and the village women cook them huge meals.  Weeks later, there is a party because they are finally healed.  They get fed and pampered again, and they get new outfits and a fancy hat.  Their fathers put them on their shoulders and carry them to the chief's compound to celebrate their manhood, and everyone has a huge dance party.

So how does the konkoron fit in exactly?  I'm sure there's some Santa Claus-Christmas link there somewhere, but I have yet to fill it out.  A vital piece of information: women aren't supposed to see the konkoron.  The Consequence?  He or his guard will hit you.  The konkorons have machetes and their minions have large branches.

FOOD.

Receiving a blessing from the cheif.

This sounds worse than it is.  The women love the konkoron.  Running from the konkoron is really fun.  All of the women gather on the road and when they see the konkoron approaching start running.  I thought it was silly- he's so far away! He's never going to catch us!  Then the konkoron started sprinting and my vision became a blur and all of a sudden I was also sprinting.  Every once else had the foresight to run into a hut- i found shelter in a douche.  Why? I don't know.

A father with his son on his shoulders.

The boys in their new attire

Before the circumcision.

After the circumcision.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving is the best holiday.  There's no hype, then it's just here, and everyone is together and eating and it is wonderful.  It is my favorite, and although I'm missing my family back home, I might feel even more thankful for things than I ever have before.  There are the materialistic things: good, vitamin rich food, running water, the internet, and my Kindle are all things I'm thankful for.  I'm also thankful for road repair teams that have the thankless job of getting rid of those menacing potholes.  This year, however, I've been looking at the bigger picture: if I wasn't born into the life I have, where would I be?  The possibilities are endless.

Comparing myself to the girls in my village, I know exactly what I'm thankful for.  I'm thankful for being given the opportunity to learn and better myself at any moment.  At no point in my life did my parents tell me I couldn't go to school.  At no point did they insist I break free of my childhood and start pulling my own weight workwise.  At no point  was I ever made to feel inferior to my brother just because I was born a girl.  I've been watching these girls struggle against gender norms and it is just so bizarre to me.  I've been listening to people argue for the girls, yet there is still the older generation that insists it is the girls who don't want to learn.  This may be true for some girls; school isn't for everyone, and it is especially challenging when it is not taught in one's native tongue.  That is not, however, the majority's opinion.  While I watch this struggle I am also able to witness the growth that is happening, certainly slowly but also surely.

So I am thankful for my supportive parents, supportive teachers, supportive grandparents and coaches and friends, and my supportive government.  Thank you for giving me an equal opportunity.  Thank you for encouraging me and instilling a desire to continue learning.  Thank you for never making me feel like a second class citizen.  Happy Thanksgiving!