An Uncomfortable Sunday

            Sunday morning began like any other: I woke up a lot earlier than my sister, read in bed, got up, took a bucket shower, got dressed, and brought my book into the living room.  I ran a couple of pages, but was interrupted by the sound of someone crying. I looked up and saw Nene, my 16-year-old sister, bawling. I had no idea why but we locked eyes and she didn’t really offer an explanation, so I tried to ignore it and go back to my reading. A few minutes later, my mother walked into the house. I smiled at her and said good morning, only to notice that she too was crying. She went back into the kitchen and was talking to the maids, all the while crying pretty hard. I realized then that something pretty bad had probably happened. Nene walked by a few minutes later carrying a suitcase upstairs to where my parents live. Finally Aka, my roommate, came out of her room. She sat down in the living room without saying good morning and stared blankly at the television. After a few minutes, she went back into our room. I was really uncomfortable especially because I could still hear my mom crying, so I followed Aka into the room hoping to get an explanation. She was furiously packing a suitcase but didn’t even look up when I walked in. I asked, “Where are you going?” She answered abruptly, “Segou” (a town about 400 kilometers away). No other explanation. I decided not to ask any more.

                I walked back into the living room because there really was nowhere else for me to go. Women kept coming in to the house in groups talking to my mother in Bambara and giving her money. Finally, after about an hour of not knowing what was going on, my mom explained that her father had passed away. She said they were leaving for Segou immediately. I gave my condolences and sat with her for some time, really wanting to hug her or put an arm around her but not knowing if that is culturally normal here. I have never seen anyone hug before. She left to pack her things, and my sister Haby came in. I asked her if she was going to Segou, too, and she said that only the oldest child goes to the burial.

                My father, mother, and Aka left pretty quickly after I found out what had happened. I spent the rest of the day with Haby and Nene. It was hard being with them since they were really upset. I asked Nene if she wished she could have gone to Segou as well and she said she did but that was not the custom. It is hard for me to imagine being told that your grandfather is dead and then immediately being separated from your parents and your older sister, left to tend to the house on your own. They also said that they are not sure when the rest of the family will be back. This really has made me realize how mature these girls are. Haby, who is 13 years old, not only looks my age, but she also acts significantly older than an 8^th-grader. Nene and Haby, along with the two maids, have been cooking for me and cleaning my dishes…whenever I offer to help they say no. It’s hard for me to remember that they are younger than me since they have such autonomy and skill.  It truly is humbling.